Hook and the Mermaid
by Herverus Grape
Summary: Hook finds himself a pet.
1. Default Chapter

Hook and the Mermaid  
  
A little plot bunny that dived into my head upon seeing the lovely and lucious Jason Isaacs play Hook in the latest Peter Pan movie.   
  
  
Chapter One  
  
She had always known that she was somehow different from the other mermaids. Even when she was very young, it had been noted that her claws were far smaller and duller, and the webbing between her fingers much more delicate and sparse than that of the other merchildren. Some had even commented on the fact that her teeth seemed decidedly straight and lacked the razor-like jaggedness so prized among her kind. Her mother had stoutly defended her, proclaiming that such deficiencies were common and only temporary, and that once she reached adolescence her talons and teeth would lengthen and sharpen appreciably. As for now, she proclaimed, no one could deny that her skin and fins shone with an admirably intense green colour and that she had proved to be just as strong and swift a swimmer as any of the rest of the young brood who gamboled about the peaceful Neverland lagoon.  
  
And yet, even there it could be seen that she was much different from the rest. All of the merchildren were curious about the island and the strange creatures who walked upon the land and had to resort to boats to travel across the water (or fairy dust to fly through the air)-but few dared to do more than briefly raise their head above the water to peer out at that strange outer world. But she would bob happily for hours opun the waves, entranced by the sights and sounds of the adjacent island and the sky overhead and finding the warmth of the sun strangely comforting upon her face. Every once in a while she would even dare to hoist herself up upon one of the flat rocks of the lagoon and call out gaily to the passing birds and dolphins, although such sessions would often end when strong fingers would tighten around her tail fin and pull her back down into the water. Moments later, she would be reeling backward, her face stinging from the painful slap delivered by her mother's own hand.  
  
"Fee, you naughty child!" her mother would remonstrate, her long, muscular tail swishing angrily from side to side as she spoke. "How many times have I warned you?"  
  
"But, Mother," she replied, blinking back tears, "I made sure there were no Lost Boys or pirates nearby."  
  
"It doesn't matter," her mother hissed, taking hold of her shoulders and giving her a firm shaking. "You know that only the grown mermaids are allowed to sit upon the rocks."  
  
Oh, yes, she could hardly forget that. For years she had envied them as they sat upon these very stones, the delicate tip of their tails drawing lazy circles in the water as they sat upon the rocks and laughed and flirted with Peter Pan while the younger merchildren were kept far away from the shore. Not that she harbored much affection for that vain, boasting prat. He had taken great delight in teasing her about her teeth until he discovered her unusual ability to mimic his voice and speak his language with ease. The other mermaids had been shocked and intrigued by her unusual gift, but their admiration soon turned into envy and then into disdain, adding it to the list of things about her that were 'different'. As for Peter, he pouted for several days (it did so hurt his vanity to know that he was not the only one who could translate between the two species) before deciding to ignore her altogether. But she had continued to linger nearby whenever he visited, as she loved to listen to the music that he played upon his flute constructed out of reeds. And she had been surprised and delighted to see a girl-human accompany him to the laggoon on several occasions. Though the other mermaids had derided her, calling her ugly and stupid, Fee had been entranced by the sound of her voice as she told stories and, most wonderfully of all, sang songs in a manner that was decidedly unlike the plaintive, rhthmic chanting of the Indians or the harsh cawing of the mermaids.  
  
Of course, the mermaids hardly ever sang and when they did, it was only to gain the attention of the pirates. The boldest of the females would climb up onto the jagged rocks and languidly comb out their long hair as they crooned, smiling at the men and throwing back their shoulders to make sure that their lovely, full breasts were fully exposed to the lustful eyes of the sailors. No matter how many times the mermaids had played this trick upon them, there would always be two or three pirates unable to resist the temptation to dive into the water or to row out to them in a small boat. The mermaids would smile and beckon them to come closer, only to laugh and disappear back into the ocean just as the men reached out to touch them. The occasional suitor who was lucky enough to actually earn a kiss from one of them soon found the other mermaids descending upon him angrily, biting and scratching at his flesh until they drew a copious amount of blood. He would be forced to beat a hasty retreat back towards the ship, the raucous laughter of the pirates who had witnessed his humiliation blending in with the contemptuous hissing of the mermaids. On several occasions, a group of the men had hit upon a scheme to ensnare one of the mermaids with a net. But whenever one of them had been caught in such a way, she would call out to her sisters and they would rush to her rescue, their sharp teeth and claws cutting with ease through the thick ropes.  
  
During these games, her mother would often sigh and shake her head in a very worried fashion. "One of these days, they are going to go too far and the pirates are going to succeed in capturing one of us," she had said.  
  
"What will happen then, mother?" she had asked.   
  
Her mother made no reply as she continued to watch as the pirates leaned over the side of the boat and shook their fists at the laughing mermaids.  
  
"Oh," said Fee, drawing in a deep breath. "Would they cook and eat us like they do the fish?"  
  
"No, daughter," her mother replied, taking her by the hand and leading her back to towards the lagoon.   
  
"But, what-"  
  
"Next year," her mother interupted, her fingers squeezing tightly around her hand, "When you have matured, you will know what the pirates want."  
  
Well, yes, she had discovered exactly what it was that the pirates were seeking when they responded to the mermaids' calls. Like the others that had been born in the same year she had, the spring of her fourteenth year brought a swift and sudden change to her body. From the tip of her tail to the crown of her head, she grew two feet seemingly overnight, her fins blossoming from short and sharp comb-like ridges to wide, delicate looking fans of silvery tissue tinged with gold and blue. Her tail itself changed shape, lengthening from a short, stubby appendage into a gracefully tapered and supple extremity. There were changes to her torso as well; her waistline slimming as her hips became more rounded and the small nubs of rounded flesh upon her chest swelling into a pair of large, firm breasts. But although her fins became the same bluish-grey color as the other mermaids, the green upon her torso had faded only to be replaced by a color that was undeniably pink in hue and nothing like the ghostly grey it was supposed to be. The other mermaids' hair had changed from a murky green into a shade of pure silver, their eyes becoming an eerie, almost translucent grey. But to Fee's distress, her own eyes had only deepened to a darker and more intense bluish-green while her hair lightened only to an obstinately platinum blonde color. And to her mother's dismay, her teeth and claws seemed to have shrunk rather than grown.  
  
"Land-dweller!" she heard the others whisper. And as much as her mother would protest that "No one in their family had ever consorted with such a foul creature," she herself knew that it was not true. Not that she doubted her mother's insistence that she herself had only mated with mermen. But one of her ancestors must have given in to the temptation-it was the only explanation not only for her appearance, but also for her ability to converse with the humans and her fascination with their world. And given the promiscuity which was considered normal for mermaids and mermen when the females were ready to mate, the fact of the matter was that her mother could not have pointed out which merman had been Fee's father, much less had the slightest idea of what his background was.  
  
For the males of the community were far outnumbered by the females, and though the young merboys were loved and groomed, fed and spoiled just like their sisters, they were summarily booted out of the lagoon upon reaching their twelfth birthday. Each year a small group of them was forced to swim off and search for another colony of merman which which to live-or to try and establish a settlement of their own. And other than the yearly visits from the mermaids as they came into season, they would never be with the females of their species again.  
  
It was the mating season now, she reflected glumly, as she slumped down upon her stomach against the rock and allowed her fingers to dip down into the cool, clear water. But this year she had chosen not to accompany the others-not after the disastrous events of last year.  
  
Closing her eyes, she fought back the cry of shame that arose in her throat and forced herself to remain silent as she remembered what had happened.   
  
The other mermaids had started to emit a strange, pungent smell, and they seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time stroking the tender flesh that normally lay hidden beneath a pair of wide, overlapping fins upon the front of their tail. This was the area about six inches below the juncture of the soft skin of the abdomen and the scales that covered their tails that heretoforethe mermaids had taken pains to conceal, except when forced to expose it in order to urinate. She mimicked the others as they sighed and cooed, wondering vaguely just what it was she was supposed to be feeling, but she had been quick to accompany them when they suddenly banded together in a large group and swam out to sea.  
  
They had journeyed without stopping for an entire day, and just when she was sure they were completely lost, she had started to hear a strange, low cry and before she knew it they were surrounded by a small cluster of merman and the mating had begun. The courtship ritual was short and swift: a male would approach a female, circle around her several times with his tail rubbing against her body and then the female would lay back in the water, the fins above her genital area moving apart swiftly as the male took his place on top of her, spreading out his own fins in order to free his erect penis to plunge into her. There would be a wild thrashing for several minutes, both the male and female moaning loudly as the mermaid sank her teeth into the soft, vulnerable flesh of the male's chest or shoulder, her claws tearing deep scratches into his back as she continued to groan and whimper. As soon as she had been satisfied, she pushed the male away, not caring whether he had climaxed yet or not, and she rested for only a few minutes before allowing another male to begin to pleasure her.  
  
She had watched the frenzied mating for several minutes before a male first approached her. And though she tried to respond appropriately, she could tell by the puzzled expression upon his face that he was surprised not only by her appearance, but by her lack of musky aroma. After circling her several times, he had been distracted by the sight and smell of another mermaid nearby and had abandoned her. This happened over and over again, and the few times that a merman seemed willing to mate with her, they had been interupted by one of the other mermaids, whose aggressive pursuit of the male was punctuated by their nips and bites upon Fee.   
  
In the end, she contented herself with staying at the far edge of the circle and watched sorrowfully until several hours later when, the mermaids sated and the mermen exhausted, they had all paused to sleep. Upon awakening, the males had hastened to bring them food to eat, and while, suprisingly, no one begrudged Fee her share of the food, she found herself ignored once more as the flurry of mating began again. Finally, after more than a full day of breeding with short breaks for rest and feeding, the mermaids abruptly departed and began to make their way home.  
  
As she glanced back at her shoulder at the mermen, she found herself surprised that, as bloodied and as battered as they appeared now, only a handful of them seemed to carry scars from past mating seasons. She concluded, sadly, that very few of the males lived to see more than one or two of these breeding sessions.  
  
Being much more tired than they had been on the original journey to find the mermen, the mermaids took nearly two days to swim back to the lagoon, and the heady perfume that had previously scented their bodies faded quickly. Once they had reached their home, there had been much rejoicing from the older mermaids, and the returning females laughed and rested, many of them rubbing their hands upon their already-protruding bellies, evidence that new merchildren would be born within the next sixty days.  
  
Her mother had said nothing to her, but regarded her board-flat stomach with sadness, and Fee had contented herself with helping the other mermaids as they gave birth a few months later in the warm, shallow water that lay near the shore. Yet even then she found herself sometimes watching jealously as the mothers held the small infants in their arms and raised their small, hungry mouths up to their breasts.  
  
This year she had decided to spare herself the humiliation, and had remained behind when the others swam off to find the males. They had left three days ago, so she had only one more day to relish her solitude before they returned and reminded her once more of her failings as a mermaid.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, she raised up slightly and peered out at the swiftly-darkening land in front of her. There were tiny specks of light visible from all over the island-evidence of the small but lively population of fairies who lived upon it. Other than that, it was abnormally quiet tonight.  
  
The Lost Boys had left with the girl named Wendy, deciding to return with her and grow up rather than remain with Peter in Neverland. He had seemed quite upset about this, but being Peter he had seemed to practically forgotten it already.   
  
He had defeated the pirate captain in battle, with some of the mermaids actually witnessing the sight of Hook being swallowed up by the giant crocodile. The rest of the pirates had scattered quickly and Peter had dusted the pirate ship with fairy dust and used it to sail the children off into the sky. He had returned only to plop the empty ship back into the sea and immediately fly off again on his own. Fee had no doubt that he was already looking for other Lost Boys to take the place of his departed comrades. There seemed to be an endless supply of boys who had been lost or had purposefully fallen out of their prams in order to avoid growing up.  
  
She glanced out upon the cliffs on which the Indian village was situated and saw only a few small fires burning in the dark of the night. The Indians had been rejoicing heartily today, celebrating both a excellent hunt and the defeat of the pirates, and it appeared that most of them had already retired to their tepees.  
  
Wetting her lips softly, she allowed a small amount of air to rush out through her lips, the resulting sound a low and quietly sustained note.   
  
It had been so long since she had dared to sing, she thought. Almost a year ago, right after the merbabies had all been born she had been so sad that she could no longer stand to remain underneath the water. She had climbed up upon the rocks with the vague notion of beaching herself upon the sand and allowing the Lost Boys to capture and kill her. (in that regard, she decided she had less to fear from these feckless boys than the pirates, for she now realized what_ they _intended to do with mermaids who were unfortunate enough to fall into their hands). But before moving onto the shore, she suddenly felt the need to express her sadness in song, finding herself somewhat amazed when a heartrending melody suddenly emerged from her throat and echoed out into the air. It was a chant that she had heard the Indians sing many, many times.  
  
Just as she was finishing, she was surprised to see a small, thin figure emerge from the brush and step out onto the beach. It was Princess Tiger Lily, and there were tears shining upon her smooth, brown face as she walked slowly towards the water.  
  
"Oh, little mermaid," she cried. "You sing our song of mourning, a song that is so sad, but so sweet. Why do you lament?"  
  
"I can not tell you," replied Fee, feeling somewhat ashamed to be discovered there.  
  
"You speak our language?" asked the Princess in surprise.  
  
"Yes," she said, realizing with a shock that she had indeed been able to understand and speak the Indian tongue.  
  
There followed a long silence.  
  
"Will you not sing again?" asked Tiger Lily. "Something happier this time. I can teach you-"  
  
Fee shook her head and began to lower herself back into the water.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
Lifting her head, Fee glanced back at the Princess.   
  
"Will you not allow me to present you with this?" She was holding out something in her hand-a long, slender necklace made of beautiful beads and polished stones.   
  
Fee hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to slink away in silence and the yet wanting to accept the beautiful gift. The mermaids took great pride in such tokens, many of them had jewels and pieces of gold that had been tossed to them by the pirates, but only a few had been lucky enough to receive such treasures from the Indians. After a few seconds, she began to slowly swim towards the young girl.  
  
"Thank you," she said, reaching out to accept the necklace from Tiger Lily, who had ventured out knee-deep into the water.  
  
"You are welcome, little mermaid," she replied. "Will you come and sing for me again?"  
  
"No," she said, placing the necklace over her head and quickly retreating. "The others do not like it when I-when I talk to humans."  
  
"You have a beautiful voice and a beautiful soul," said Tiger Lily, walking backwards to the shore and kneeling down at the edge of the water. "But you are very lonely, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Have you lost your husband?"  
  
Fee found herself smiling. Even the Indians, as close to nature as they were, seemed ignorant of the way of the mermaids.  
  
"No, mermaids do not take husbands-we mate with several males but love none of them"  
  
"Ah." Tiger Lily stared up at the sky for a moment before gazing back at Fee's face and smiling. "But you are not like the others, are you?"  
  
"No," replied Fee, feeling a strange burn upon her face and turning away from the shore, preparing to dive into the water.  
  
"You are waiting for your one true mate to find you."  
  
With a puzzled expression, the mermaid turned back to look at the Princess, but she was already heading back into the forest.   
  
She shrugged her shoulders and swam back to where the rest of the colony was preparing for sleep. But the moon was full that night, and the other mermaids saw that she was wearing an Indian jewelry around her throat. Instead of being pleased for her, they became jealous and angry, and one reached out to viciously snatch the necklace from her, the beads falling to the ocean floor as the chain broke within her irate grasp.  
  
_"Look who's putting on airs!"  
  
"Flirting with the Indians now, are you?"  
  
"Hah, she always tried to flirt with Peter and he never liked you, did he?"_  
  
And so she had retired, crying to her bed, contenting herself with picking up a few of the beads the next morning and hiding them away under the heavy moss-covered stone which served as her pillow. But she knew that she never dared to meet with Tiger Lily again, for she knew the Princess would wonder where her necklace had gone and she would be too ashamed to admit the truth.  
  
But tonight, she felt the strange urge to sing again. Not the Indian chant that she had sung so many months ago, but something else. Perhaps she could sing one of the songs that Wendy had sang to the boys.  
  
Clearing her throat, she began to sing, her voice low and cautious.  
  
_In Scarlet town where I was born  
There was a fair maid dwelling  
And every youth cried well away  
For her name was Barbara Allen_  
  
Her voice had sounded rather raspy and ragged when she began, but by the end of the verse it was much more clear and strong. She hesitated just for a moment before beginning the next verse, her voice strengthening again and her heart taking strange solace in the simple, sad melody.  
  
_Twas in the merry month of May  
The green buds were a swelling  
Sweet William on his deathbed lay  
For the love of Barbara Allen  
  
  
He sent a servant unto her  
To the place she was dwelling  
Saying you must come to his deathbed now  
If your name be Barbara Allen  
  
  
Slowly slowly she got up  
Slowly slowly she came nigh him  
And the only words to him she said  
Young man I think you're dying_  
  
Then she paused and wondered at the painful heaviness in her heart. Although the mermaids knew little of love, it seemed so callous to say those words to one who was dying-and all for love of you? But then, was it any different than the mermaids coming to take what they wanted from the mermen and then leaving them without so much as a backwards glance?  
  
Shaking her head, she took up the song once more:  
  
_As she was walking oer the fields  
She heard the death bell knelling  
And every stroke it seemed to say  
Hardhearted Barbara Allen_  
  
But now she stopped again and her forehead wrinkled as she struggled to remember the rest of the song. How did it go again? She opened and closed her mouth several times, thinking she remembered part of the words before finding that the whole of the stanza seemed to elude her. Then she heard a soft, strong and decidedly male voice sing out sweetly from the shore.  
  
_Oh mother mother make my bed  
Make it long and make it narrow  
Sweet William died for me today  
I'll die for him tomorrow_  
  
She sat upon the rock, stunned into silence and immobility as the last echo of the verse died away.  
  
"Do you know the final verses?" A beautiful, cultured and masculine voice was asking the question.  
  
"Yes," she whispered, and opened her mouth again. This time her sweet soprano melded perfectly with his baritone as they sang the last eight lines together.  
  
_They buried her in the old churchyard  
They buried him in the choir  
And from his grave grew a red red rose  
From her grave a green briar  
  
  
They grew and grew to the steeple top  
Till they could grow no higher  
And there they twined in a true love's knot  
Red rose around green briar  
  
_After they finished, there was a long silence.  
  
"Will you sing another song for me?" he finally asked.  
  
"I would like to," she answered, "But I am not sure that I remember any more."  
  
"Then I shall teach you," he said. "This one is called 'Red is the Rose', and here is the chorus:"  
  
_Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows  
Fair is the lily of the valley  
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne  
But my love is fairer than any  
  
_"Is it not pretty?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, yes," she replied.  
  
"Then sing the chorus with me this time, and then I'll go on to the verses," he promised.  
  
And so they did, their voices joining together on the chorus and Fee listening quietly as he sang the verses.  
  
_Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass  
Come over the hills to your darling  
You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow  
And I'll be your true love forever.  
  
'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed  
When the moon and the stars they were shining  
The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair  
And she swore she'd be my love forever  
  
It's not for the parting that my sister pains  
It's not for the grief of my mother  
'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass  
That my heart is breaking forever_  
  
"Is it not beautiful, lass?" he asked, when they had finished.  
  
"Very beautiful, but very sad," she answered, wistfully.  
  
"Will you sing it to me this time?" he asked, and she willingly obeyed. To her surprise, she managed to remember most of the words, but whenever she did falter, his voice would ring out and fill in the gaps. Then they sang it a third time, her clear and strong soprano singing the melody as he sang a beautiful harmony to complement the tune.  
  
"That is so lovely," she said, when they had finished.  
  
"Aye, it is," he replied.   
  
"Tell me, sir, will you not come forward and show yourself?" she finally asked, rising up upon her tail and straining to make out his figure in the dark outline of the forest. But he remained where he was, hidden by the trees.  
  
"Alas, my dear, it would not be prudent," he replied. "I prefer to remain cloaked in darkness and not intrude upon your loveliness."  
  
She felt herself blushing. "Oh, no, kind, sir, please reveal yourself!" she cried.  
  
"No, no, I can not," he protested.  
  
She stared down into the water and felt a strange burning sensation in her eyes.  
  
"But will you return to sing with me again tomorrow?" he asked. "There are many more songs that I would like to teach you."  
  
"No, I can not," she said, shaking her head sadly. "My sisters are returning to the lagoon tomorrow and they are jealous of my ability to talk and sing with humans." A frown creased her forehead once more. "You are human, are you not?"  
  
A low, wry laugh rang out over the lagoon. "Well, my little maid, you would find many who would swear to you that I am not human."  
  
"Are you only a spirit then?" she asked, truly puzzled now.  
  
A long, lingering sigh wafted across the water. "Yes, mermaid, I am indeed a tragic, lonely soul tonight."  
  
"Can I not help you?" she asked, leaning forward as far as she could upon the palms of her hands as she tried once more to peer into the gloom.  
  
"Meet with me tomorrow?"  
  
"I have told you already that I can not-" she began.  
  
"Not here, not here," the voice said quickly. "We shall find another place to meet where we shall not be disturbed. Perhaps..."  
  
She waited for him to speak again, her heart begin to pound rather excitedly within her chest at the thought of meeting him again.  
  
"The cavern within Castle Rock?" the voice suggested.  
  
"Oh!" she said, gasping in surprise. Although the mermaids never sought to interfere in the affairs of the pirates, neither did any of them like to spend much time in that darkened cave where the skeletons of men left to die upon the rocks still hung from the chains that had imprisoned them there.   
  
"You needn't be afraid," the voice assured her. "For the pirates have all gone and you shall be quite safe with me."  
  
Yet, she was afraid and continued to hesitate, her desire to meet with him warring with an undeniable sense of foreboding. There was a strange, whirring sound and she jumped back slightly as, with a small splash, something fell into the water beside her. She reached out to retrieve the object as it began to sink down into the sea. It was a large, oval-shaped pearl that glowed in the moonlight with an other-worldly flouresence.  
  
"How lovely!" she cried.  
  
"But not half as lovely as you are," he replied. "Will you promise to meet with me now?"  
  
"I-I do not know," she stammered.  
  
"Oh, lass," said the voice, sounding infinitely much sadder now. "I have been alone for so long-will you not join me, please? I promise that there will be more trinkets for you, and many, many more songs."  
  
"All right," she said suddenly, holding the pearl tightly within her hand. "I will meet your tomorrow, but I must go now."  
  
"Farewell until then, little one," replied the voice.  
  
With a smile upon her face, she turned and dove into the water. She swam down to the bottom of the ocean and took her place place upon the soft sand. With a smile, she turned the pearl over and over in her fingers, deciding that tomorrow she would find some way to weave the jewel into the strands of her hair. But for now she could not bear to leave it out of her hands-even to hide underneath her pillow. And so it was that she fell asleep with a smile upon her lips, and the pearl still clutched within her palm.  
  
Meanwhile, at the edge of the beach, hidden behind a large tree, James Hook, dreaded pirate and captain of the Jolly Roger smiled as well-although his grin was one of cunning and deceit.   
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain?" The voice was small and meek.  
  
Hook's smile turned immediately into a scowl. "What is it Smee?" he asked, irritably.  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain,", Smee repeated, "I've managed to find most of the crew and return them to the ship, but they don't seem to believe me, sir."  
  
"What don't they believe, Smee?" he barked, advancing upon the man with the hook that extended from his right cloat sleeve held high in the air.  
  
"Well, they don't believe that you're alive, Captain," Smee squeaked. "Seein' as they all saw you disappear into that crocodile-"  
  
"Scurvy knaves!" muttered Hook, a dark and dangerous look descending upon his coutenance. "I'll prove to them that Hook is still alive-if I have to kill the lot of them!"  
  
"Y-y-yes sir," stammered Smee, stumbling along behind the Captain as he began to make his way to the small boat that was hidden behind a grove of trees at the edge of the beach.   
  
Once they had reached the small vessel, Hook stepped down into it and remained standing as Smee struggled to shove the boat out into the water and began to row the boat towards the Jolly Roger. That once proud and fierce pirate vessel was still showing the ravages of the battle with the Lost Boys and its recent journey to and from London had left the sails tattered and torn. But Hook knew that it was still seaworthy and his heart swelled with pride and anger as he regarded the scarred hull.  
  
As he and Smee crept stealthily up the side, he could hear the raised voices of the pirates.  
  
"I tell you, we should go North!"   
  
Hook recognized that voice as belonging to Black-hearted Bart.  
  
"No, South!" cried another.  
  
"Oh, if only the Captain were here to tell us," moaned yet another.  
  
"Smee says he's still alive!" piped up a thin, quavery voice.  
  
"Bah!" This was Bart again. "Smee's tetched in the head-has been for a long time. Hook's been digestin' in the gullet of the croc for over a week now," he sneered contemptuously. " 'n fact, he's probably nothin' more than a stinkin' pile of croc shit by now!"  
  
"Indeed, Bart?"  
  
The whole crew took in a collective gasp as they recognized the voice of their fearless (and greatly-feared) leader.  
  
Hook stood upon the railing for a moment, his hook raised up and his hair and coat fluttering dramatically in the wind as the entire crew turned to gape in astonishment.  
  
"Then what am I?" he asked, jumping lightly to the deck and moving towards the group, his hook flashing menacingly in the air. "Am I merely a figment of Smee's imagination?" he asked one pirate, cocking his head to the side and running the cold metal of his hook underneath the man's chin.  
  
"N-n-no sir," the pirate answered, beginning to quake with fear.  
  
"Ah," said Hook, turning to the next man with an even more-horrible grin upon his face. "Then perhaps I am a mere ghost, or phantom?" he asked. This time he raised the hook to the man's face and allowed it to glide over his face for a moment before suddenly turning it and jerking it downward, leaving a wide, bloody gash upon the man's cheek.  
  
"No, Captain," the man cried, raising a hand to his injured skin as Hook turned once more and began to advance upon Black-Hearted Bart.  
  
"No," he said, holding his hook out before his face and noting with approval the sheen of crimson upon it. "I am neither figment-"   
  
He took another step towards Bart, and the pirate took a step backward. "Nor phantom-".   
  
Hook stepped forward again, his hook clearly aimed at the man's bare throat, but this time Bart's back was against the wooden mast and he remained pinned there, his wide-open eyes glazed with fear.   
  
"And certainly," Hook whispered, his white, even teeth clenched together angrily, "Not a festering pile of crocodile excrement, am I Bart?"  
  
"No, sir," the pirate agreed, shaking his head in amazement. "But how did-"  
  
"How did I manage to escape?" prompted Hook, smiling and raising his right hand to his side. "Do you really not know?" he asked, in a most conversational tone as he rested his left hand against the mast and leaned even closer still to the man. "It's quite simple, actually," he said, as he lowered his hand. "I merely-"  
  
It was at this juncture that Hook's eyes, normally the same blue as forget-me-nots, took on a distinctly reddish hue and a great, horrible gasp sprang from poor Bart's mouth as the Captain's iron claw tore into his side.  
  
"-plunged my hook into his belly-" continued the Captain, in a lazy, unhurried tone as Bart's gasp turned into a low whimper. "From the inside of course," he hastened to add, whispering the latter in a conspiratorial manner into Bart's ear.  
  
"-and tore him open." And with one quick, powerful stroke, Hook proceeded to do just that to poor Bart. The man slumped to the floor, already dead although his eyes and mouth continued to twitch nervously for several minutes thereafter, as Hook smiled and turned to regard the rest of the pirates.  
  
"Does anyone else care to challenge me?" he called out, holding his hook aloft again.  
  
"No, Captain!" they all called.  
  
"Then get to work!" he bellowed. "I want the decks scrubbed until there's not a trace of that damned fairy dust left. Rapair the sails and run up the Skull and Crossbones immediately!"  
  
The ship echoed with a chorus of "Aye, aye, sirs!"  
  
"Smee!", he cried, crossing over the deck to the door of his cabin.  
  
"Yes, Captain," replied the man, scurrying over and hurriedly throwing open the door.   
  
"Get me some brandy, Smee," said Hook, throwing himself into his chair as Smee lit the lamp. "And a new hat!" he added, running his hand unhappily through his curls.  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Smee, who had picked up a glass and the brandy bottle, but was quivering so much that the brandy threatened to slosh over unto the floor. "But Pan took yours."  
  
"Yes, I know he did, Smee," hissed Hook, glaring at his blood-spattered hook and reaching into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief with which he proceeded rub its slick surface. "Find me another."  
  
"Yes, Captain," said Smee, sounding more than a bit doubtful as he set down the glass and began to pour the brandy into it, his hand still so shaky that more than a few drops spattered out upon the table. "Tell me, Captain," he said, as he returned the stopper to the bottle. "Will we be leaving the Island, then?"  
  
"What?" said Hook, staring up at him angrily for a moment before throwing down the handerchief and reaching out to wrest the bottle from Smee's grasp. It landed with a loud thump down upon the table.  
  
"Since Pan is gone-" said Smee, raising his hands and backing away.  
  
"Oh, he's not gone, Smee," said Hook, in an almost-tired tone of voice as he reached out for the glass and drained it in one large swallow. "He'll be back, with a new passel of those brats." Setting the glass down, he proceeded to pour himself another drink.  
  
Smee swallowed and nodded in agreement. "Yes, Captain," he said, heading toward the door.  
  
"Wait!" said Hook, rubbing the hook thoughtfully against his right cheek as he raised the glass to his lips again. "Send Gallagher in."  
  
"The carpenter?" asked Smee in surprise, his eyes darting around the room. "Well, I don't think he'd be much help in making a hat-"  
  
"No, Smee," said Hook, smiling rather happily into the amber liquid of the glass. "I need him to make a box for me." He set the glass down and pushed back his chair, raising his feet to the top of the table. "A large _water-tight_ box, to fit right there," he added, pointing towards the floor next to his bed. "Rather like a fish tank," he murmured, his smile broadening into a smirk.  
  
"Yes, sir," said Smee, totally uncomprehending but not daring to question Hook any further.   
  
"And Smee?"  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
Hook leaned back contentedly and rested his neck against the edge of the chair as he closed his eyes. "Make sure that our largest fishnet is in good repair. I will be in need of it by tomorrow night."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Tonight, Tonight

HATM2  
Chapter Two  
  
Tonight, Tonight  
Mermaids, as a rule, stayed awake long after midnight and seldom stirred from their sleeping places until noontime. But this morning Fee found her eyelids opening as the first rays of the sunrise began to shine down through the murky water.   
  
Her slumber had been strangely restless, her dreams fragmented and repetitive and filled with images that mirrored the meeting with the mysterious stranger that she had encountered the night before. Over and over again, she would dream that she was sitting upon the flat rock, feeling lonely and sad, feeling the desperate urge to sing in order to relieve herself of the melancholy that had enveloped her. But sometimes when she opened her mouth, there emerged nothing except a low, croaking sound, more suitable to a frog than to a mermaid. And instead of the beautiful crooning of a male voice, she would hear only the echo of derisive laughter wafting across the water. Her face burning, she would dive back into the water, mortified and anxious to hide herself away from him. At other times, she would perform song after song perfectly and ever so sweetly, but would wait in vain to hear his voice boom out across the lagoon to join hers, and she would find herself weeping in despair. But even more puzzling was the times that she would hear his beautiful voice whispering into her ear, joining her in song, so close that she could feel his warm breath drifting across her skin, and yet when she would turn she would see nothing more than a shadow dancing across the moonlit sky.  
  
Her eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown as she lay upon the soft sand and stretched tiredly. Perhaps it had _all _been a dream, she thought suddenly, feeling her heart begin to constrict most painfully at the notion that she had only imagined it.   
  
"The pearl!" she thought, shaking her head and glancing down at her hand. If the jewel was still there, she certainly hadn't dreamed it. Very slowly she unfurled her fingers, and gave a short, happy cry as she perceived the pearl was still there within the palm of her hand, its outline showing clearly against the soft skin as the result of her having clutched it so tightly all through the night.  
  
"It is real," she whispered to herself. A happy grin raised the corners of her lips._ He_ is real," she added softly. With a quick flick of her tail, she rose swiftly to the surface, anxious to examine the jewel more closely in the bright light of the dawn.  
  
It was indeed a beautiful pearl, she thought, tilting her hand from side to side and marveling at the soft white-pink of its color as it glowed in the sun. It must be a clue to the identity of her admirer, she thought, clasping the gem tightly in her hand as she dived back down into the ocean.   
  
It certainly would not have come from one of the Lost Boys. Besides the fact that the voice which had spoken to her had been that of a man-the timbre deep and rich, she knew that those ragamuffins were quite content to adorn themselves with acorns, feathers, bits of braid and odd pieces of metal that they happened to pick up. None of them would have found this exquisite but small trinket worthy of their notice. Likewise, the fact that it was a simple, solitary pearl, not an elaborate piece of jewelry set in heavy gold or silver, assured her that it had not come from a pirate.   
  
Which meant, she decided, as a look of sudden comprehension spread across her face, that it must have come from the only other group of men on the island-one of the young braves. The Indians had always lived in harmony with the mermaids, but it had always been the very young children or the females of the tribe who had ventured forth to the edge of the water to greet them and to throw out their gifts of food or other tokens of esteem. She supposed that since their own society was undeniably matriarchal in nature, the Indians would have felt it disrespectful for the adult males to interact with them. Although upon occasion the young men did venture into the ocean-  
  
She found herself laughing out loud with delight and relief. Of course the pearl had come from an Indian, and she should have known it from the first! How many times had she and the other mermaids watched from a distance as the braves dived into the water and bobbed back to the surface with oysters in their hands? Although they had been too far away to see clearly, there had been no doubt by the way the men hooted and hollered that they had been delighted to find pearls within some of shells.   
  
But in a moment, her face was clouded with confusion one more. But how had a brave learned so sing such lovely songs that were so unlike the Indian chants? Biting down upon her lip, she frowned and restlessly twirled the pearl in her hand as she puzzled over this conundrum for several minutes.  
  
He must have come and listened to the Wendy girl, she decided. And, of course, she had only been able to listen to her on those nights when Pan had brought her out to the lagoon. The Indians and Lost Boys had become allies ever since Peter had rescued Tiger Lily, so there must have been many nights when the braves had visited with the children, so it was quite reasonable that he would have heard many more songs than she had.  
  
She nodded to herself, quite content with this explanation, and finding that she was now picturing a lean, bronzed figure walking silently through the forest, hesitating when he had heard her voice floating through the air and finding himself drawn to join her. It was a handsome, noble and hawk-faced profile which she pictured now, even if the details remained slightly fuzzy as she imagined him hiding behind a tree, listening to her and finally daring to raise his voice with hers. Perhaps, she thought, her heart swelling with compassion, he was a lonely man, who felt himself somewhat 'different' from the rest of the tribe, as she herself had felt isolated from the rest of her colony. That was probably why he had suggested meeting in Castle Rock. Perhaps he feared, as she did, that the others would not understand their desire to meet and to sing together.  
  
Well, she thought, drawing herself out of her reverie and reaching out to pick up her pillow, she hoped that tonight he would overcome his shyness enough to let her see what he looked like. She gently placed the pearl beside the beads that remained of the necklace that Tiger Lily had given to her and carefully replaced the stone. She also hoped that he would be pleased to see her wearing his gift, even if she could not hope to compete with the beauty of the young Indian maids.  
  
"What _are _you doing up so early, Fee?"  
  
She started and turned to regard her mother, who was yawning and rubbing her eyes in a very irritated manner.  
  
"I'm sorry, mother," she replied, hanging her head. "But I couldn't sleep."   
  
"No need to wake the rest of us up," her mother complained.  
  
"No," Fee agreed hurriedly. "I may as well go and start gathering some food for the others-I know they'll be very hungry when they return."  
  
For a moment her mother gazed at her sadly. "You should have gone with them," she said quietly.  
  
"No," she answered, her voice deliberately carefree as she bent forward to bestow a light kiss upon her mother's cheek, "It was best that I stay behind. Now, go back to sleep and stop worrying about me."  
  
Before she could reply, she turned and quickly began to swim away, heading for the area of the lagoon where there was an abundance of tasty kelp. Her mother watched her closely as she faded into the distance, trying to ignore a small but persistent fear gnawing inside of her that something terrible was about to happen.  
  
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On the Jolly Roger, Hook was awake as well. His habit, as it turns out, was also not to arise until the sun was quite high in the sky. But this morning not even the considerable amount of brandy he had quaffed the night before would allow him to sleep through the horrible din that was arising from the deck of the ship, just outside his cabin door.   
  
With a groan, he raised his right hand to his pounding head, barely managing to check himself before the cold iron of his claw had dug into his forehead. With an oath and a grimace, he opened his eyes and stared rather disdainfully at the hook, deciding he must have been quite drunk indeed to have fallen into bed without first removing it. With another curse upon his lips he shoved himself into a seated position and raised his left hand to undo the buckle that fastened the leather harness around his torso. He loosened the straps and eased the heavy hook and its holder away from what remained of his wrist, feeling a familiar prickling and itching upon the scarred nub.   
  
Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and impatiently rubbed the stump over the bed sheets. He worked at this diligently for over a minute, knowing that the tingling would fade only to be replaced by the even more disconcerting impression that his nonexistent right hand was now painfully clenched into a tight fist. With a sudden spark of pain, the transformation occurred, the itching subsiding abruptly as a low, throbbing ache ran up and down his arm as the feeling of the 'phantom' fingers sprang suddenly into his consciousness.   
  
Opening his eyes, he gazed forlornly at the stump, wondering how his body still managed to delude itself into believing that the long-gone fingers and thumb were still there. It took a great deal of resolve to keep from relenting to the small voice within his head that urged him to close his eyes and to pretend that the sensations were real, to indulge in the fantasy that what had been torn from him had been miraculously restored. Instead, he resolutely kept his eyes open and forced himself to study the abruptly truncated end of his forearm. He knew from experience that it would take several minutes for his mind and body to adjust once more to the reality of his condition, and for the strange sensation to fade away.  
  
He had often sneered and declared to Smee and the other pirates that he was quite content to have a hook rather than a hand. In truth, he had became far more adept at using it than he had ever dreamed, practicing diligently until he was able to perform most mundane tasks with ease, and stoically training his left hand to perform those functions were fingers were an absolute necessity. He had proudly added to his inventory of hooks, amassing a fine selection of ingeniously-shaped devices and elegant utensils crafted out of pure silver, all of them lovingly polished by Smee and stored in a velvet case when they were not required. At the same time, Black-Hearted Bart had hardly been the first man he had dispatched with a carefully aimed slice of his large hook, and he had no doubt that the ease and ferocity with which he wielded it as a weapon had only served to add to his aura of authority and menace. He had long claimed that the only thing he regretted about losing his hand was that it had been swallowed by that damned crocodile, thereby arousing in the infernal creature an insatiable appetite for more of his flesh. But that proclamation was a bald-faced lie.  
  
As adept as he had become in its use, using a hook to raise a cup to his lips, or the spyglass to his eye or to steer the ship's wheel could never, would never, feel the same as it had with his own flesh. And though he might relish the way a man recoiled in fear as he brandished his formidable claw, he knew he would have gladly given away all the treasure he had ever stolen just to be able to feel the calloused palm of his right hand wander over the smooth skin of a woman just once more.  
  
With a loud bark of laughter, he moved his eyes away from the misshapen forearm and glanced down at the large bulge tenting out the front of his trousers. "Well, now," he said ruefully, moving his left hand over the fabric and pressing down upon the aching flesh, "I suppose I should be grateful that Pan didn't cut off some other parts." Closing his eyes once more, he allowed himself to fantasize that a lovely, golden-haired wench was lying on the bed beside him, her lips wet and glistening and her legs parted invitingly.  
  
A loud knock upon the door interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Come in!" he barked, rising from his bed and turning away from the door so that his arousal would not be too evident.  
  
"Good mornin', Captain!" Smee said cheerfully. "You're up early this morning," he noted, setting down a large tray upon his desk.  
  
Hook snorted and bent down to retrieve the leather harness. "As if anyone could sleep through that damned noise!" he growled, jerking his head in the direction of the door.  
  
"Ah, yes, he is making quite a racket, isn't he?" agreed Smee amiably, pouring out some tea. "But Gallagher is quite anxious to have that fish tank finished for you today."  
  
"Yes," said Hook, holding out the harness and gesturing for Smee to help fasten it around him. "The fish tank." A queer smile appeared upon his face. "I'd almost forgotten," he admitted.  
  
"Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that you've decided to take up a hobby," said Smee, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated upon securing the buckle.  
  
"A hobby, Smee?" Hook asked, as he sat down upon his chair.  
  
"Yes, collecting fish could be quite interesting," he replied, hurrying to unfold Hook's napkin and place it upon his lap. "Do you have a specific type in mind?"  
  
"Actually, yes," said Hook, picking up his tea cup and taking a small, appreciative sip of the fragrant liquid. Raising his napkin with his left hand, he delicately wiped his lips before dropping the linen and reaching out for a crumpet. "I intend to trap a very pretty little fish with an unusual talent for singing."  
  
"Ah," said Smee, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. He could not imagine such a creature. But, as he knew he had very little imagination, the matter did not trouble him overmuch. With a shrug, he concentrated instead on taking the crumpet from Hook's hand in order to slather it with butter.  
  
"Any more trouble with the men?" inquired Hook, as he accepted the crumpet back from Smee's hand.  
  
"No, indeed, Captain," said Smee, nodding very happily. "They are all quite busy this morning getting the vessel ship-shape again and such-" With a cry, the man broke off and slapped his palm against his forehead. "Dear me, where_ is_ my head this morning?" he tutted.  
  
"Very fortuitously for you, it appears to still be attached to your neck, Smee," Hook answered, knowing even as he pronounced the words that Smee would be oblivious to the sarcasm contained within them.  
  
"Yes, indeed, yes, indeed," murmured Smee as he wiped his hands upon his trousers. "I'll be back in just a moment, Captain!" he called as he hurried out of the cabin.  
  
Shaking his head in and sighing in exasperation, Hook leaned over and used his claw to raise the silver cover from the plate in front of him. A smile broke across his face as he beheld the large mound of eggs and sausages piled upon the platter. Whatever his myriad faults, Smee was an exemplary cook. Tossing the cover aside, he grabbed a fork with his left hand and stabbed the nearest sausage, wolfing it down with relish. By the time he had swallowed a few more mouthfuls Smee was back.  
  
Setting the fork down, Hook studied the man carefully, noting his broad grin and the fact that he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a large box behind his back.  
  
"What's this?" asked Hook, taking care to keep his tone bored even though he secretly delighted in receiving presents.  
  
"Open it up!" urged Smee, setting a package down on the desk. Although the box appeared rather battered-looking, he had tied a rather pretty silver ribbon around it.   
  
Hook studied the package for a few more moments before reaching out to work his hook underneath the ribbon and slashed it in half with a quick, upward jerk of his arm. A moment later, the lid was tossed to the side and Hook gave an appreciative whistle as he moved the thick layers of tissue paper aside.  
  
"You're pleased, Captain?" asked Smee, his fingers fidgeting nervously as he watched Hook reach down into the box to retrieve the contents of the box.  
  
It was a hat-and not just any hat. It was a large, flamboyant hat, crafted of rich, red velvet with a wide, curved brim and topped with a large, fluffy white feather. In short, it was just the kind of ostentatious headgear that the rather vain Hook delighted in wearing.   
  
Forcing an indifferent look upon his face, Hook shrugged. "I _suppose_ it will do for now," he answered, turning it over between his hand and hook. "Where did you get it?"  
  
"It was in Black-hearted Bart's trunk, sir," answered Smee. "The men opened it this morning to see what he had and several of them had their eye on this-but I said only the Captain deserves such a magnificent hat like that!"  
  
"Yes," said Hook, frowning slightly. "But what happened to the money and jewels that he had?"  
  
Smee's blanched slightly as his smile faded. "I-I-I don't know sir, there didn't seem to be any-"  
  
"Hmm," murmured Hook, narrowing his eyes. He rather thought that Bart must have been planning for some time to stage a mutiny and set himself up as the new leader, for it was indeed unusual for anyone other than the captain to wear such a fine hat. No doubt, he had also used whatever treasure he had to grease a few palms as well, which accounted for the lack of gold in his trunk. Pushing his chair away from the desk, he stood up and strode over to his looking-glass.  
  
He placed the hat upon his head, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face as he beheld his reflection.  
  
"Oh, yes, that is a mighty fine hat, sir," said Smee, peering over his shoulder.   
  
"It will do," repeated Hook, as nonchalantly as he could. Turning his head to the side, he continued to study his image, raising his left hand to run his fingers along his jaw. He hadn't shaved in several days, and there was an annoying brown stubble dotting his cheeks and neck, ruining the usual fine line of his goatee.   
  
"Shall I get your razor, Captain?" asked Smee, still bobbing up and down on his tiptoes behind Hook.  
  
"No, not yet," he replied. Removing the hat, he held it out to Smee. "I shall want you to shave me tonight, and to wax my mustache as well-just before we leave. In the meantime, shine my boots and make sure my best coat is clean with all the buttons polished. And, uh, Smee..." He paused and cleared his throat.  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"I'll have a bath this morning as well-start boiling some water."  
  
At this, Smee's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The Captain was much more mindful of hygiene than any other pirate that Smee had known, but he seldom went so far as to have an actual bath.  
  
"I want to rid myself of the stench of that damned crocodile's belly!" declared Hook, clenching his teeth angrily.  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain," said Smee, bowing subserviently and walking backwards towards the door of the cabin. "I'll see to it immediately, sir."  
  
As the door banged closed, Hook turned back to the mirror. After a moment, he took a step backward so that his bare shoulders were reflected within the frame as well. He silently studied his dark, curly hair, the aristocratic, sculpted features and the deep, clear blue color of his eyes. Although Hook was renown for his vanity, it could not be denied that he was an engagingly handsome man. And then a contemplative look appeared upon his face as he allowed his mind to drift back to the events of the night before.  
  
He had been in a rather foul mood, his delight in having escaped what seemed a certain death tempered by his annoyance that none of the pirates had raised a finger to assist him. Although Smee had welcomed him back joyfully, he had feared his ability to win over the rest of the crew and reclaim his ship. He had convinced his loyal first mate to travel on alone to the Jolly Roger to assess the situation, while he himself had remained behind in the forest.  
  
Smee had been gone for nearly an hour, and Hook had worn a path in the forest floor with his anxious pacing when he had first heard the sound of a female voice wafting through the night air. For a few heart-stopping moments, he had been convinced that it was Wendy he was hearing, and he had felt a strange mixture of anger and relief flood over him as he hastened to make his way towards her. But he had only taken a few steps before he stopped and listened more closely, realizing that the voice he was hearing was older, higher and much more beautiful than that possessed by that impertinent slip of a girl.  
  
Moving more cautiously, he had slowly threaded his way through the forest and peered out into the lagoon. He had been surprised to see the mermaid, having never before heard any of her kind sing in such a way. The others had always sung in that strange, cawing cry that was part seagull, part dolphin and part indescribable cacophony. Like the other men, he was not immune to the lure of their call, the mere sound of their weird crooning filling him with lustful thoughts. Yet, as a man who prided himself on his musical skills, he had always been rather disdainful of the aesthetic value of their efforts.  
  
This little one, however, was not only singing intelligible words, she was carrying the melody in a strong, sweet voice that stirred his soul as much as any siren song had ever aroused his body. Perhaps, if she had simply continued to sing, he might have been able to simply enjoy watching and hearing her from afar. But as she faltered over the words and fell silent, a sly grin appeared upon his face as he considered his options.  
  
The poor, innocent creature seemed so lonely and so sad. So...friendless. Although she might initially be startled to hear him, might not she also be flattered by his apparent solicitude and soothed by the calming sound of his melodious voice? As he sang out, he watched as surprise, curiosity and an ineffable look of joy crossed her face in quick succession. He knew in a moment that, with the proper preparation, he could continue to tempt her, allaying her fears and lulling her into a false sense of security. Even as he gently and tenderly taught her the new song, a part of him was contemplating just how he soon he could manage to lure her into a trap.  
  
When they had finished singing and had begun to talk, he had been rather irritated with her apparent unwillingness to meet with him again. But he knew that a display of anger would only frighten her away. So he had forced himself to keep his voice soft, gentle and melancholy, instinctively knowing that playing upon her sympathies would work to his advantage. Inwardly, he was cursing the fact that he had no gold or fine jewels upon his person to bestow upon her, for the mermaids had always seem to be quite acquisitive in nature. Searching through his pockets, his fingers had brushed against something cool and round, and it was not until he had held the pearl between his fingers and studied it in the moonlight that he even recognized what it was. It was one of several that he had stolen from a young Indian brave ages ago, the rest of the gems having been used to decorate one of his waistcoats. Having nothing else to offer, he had tossed it out to her. Her pathetic gratefulness for the meager offering gratified him immensely-for he was certain now that the gift had not only reassured her, but she would feel a certain obligation to meet with him again.  
  
His eyes refocused upon his reflected image as he pulled his thoughts back to the present. He knew she had been fascinated by his voice, and he _was_ an exceedingly handsome man with a great deal of charm-when he chose to use it. There was every chance that, if he pursued her patiently and carefully, that he might not eventually seduce her and convince her to come with him willingly. However-  
  
He sighed and turned away from the mirror as he began once more to remove the harness and shed the rest of his clothes. He had attempted to woo Wendy to his side with a gentle manner and tender words. Although she had initially responded to him most delightfully, in the end she had chosen Pan over him. He was not a patient man by nature, and had no intention of wasting any more of his time wooing a mermaid with honeyed endearments when she might end up leaving him to pursue some doltish merman. He paused as he dropped his trousers to the floor, a puzzled frown wrinkling his forehead. There must be mermen, he supposed, though he has never seen one.   
  
A loud knock sounded upon his door.  
  
"Captain, we've brought the water and the tub."  
  
He wrapped a blanket about his waist before giving them leave to enter. The door opened and Smee and another man stumbled in carrying the large tin tub, followed by half a dozen other pirates carrying buckets of steaming water. Directing them to place the basin on the floor near the desk, Hook watched silently as Smee oversaw the emptying of the buckets. It took several trips to fill the tub halfway, after which Smee dismissed the rest and went to retrieve two buckets of cold water to adjust the final temperature. Rolling up his sleeves, he began to pour in the cool water, using his left arm to test the warmth of the bath. Finally nodding in satisfaction, he gestured for the captain to proceed. Doffing the blanket, Hook stepped into the tub and gingerly settled himself in the water as Smee handed him a bar of soap and a large wash cloth.  
  
"Anything else, Captain?" he asked, pouring a small amount of perfumed water into the bath as well.  
  
"No, that will be sufficient," he murmured, closing his eyes and allowing his body to sink down further into the hot, steamy water.  
  
"I'll be back later to pick up your clothes for cleaning then," said Smee.  
  
A small nod was his only reply.  
  
He waited until Smee had left and locked the door behind him before beginning to cleanse himself. He began by soaping his right arm, beginning at the shoulder and working down to its abnormally shortened end. He had to work for several minutes to work the dirt out of the creases that had been etched into his skin by the pressure of the cuff which held his hook. He then switched sides, washing his left arm as best he could with the cloth thrown over the stump of his right hand. He found himself rather amazed at how vibrantly the colors of his tattoos shone once he had rinsed off the layers of grime. Next, he worked the lather over his face and neck and then turned his attention to his feet and legs.   
  
The water had definitely started to cool by now, but he seemed in no hurry as he reached down into the water and began to gently soap the tender skin of his genitals. He found himself thinking again about the little mermaid and wondering about what her breasts looked like-she had so modestly kept her hair draped over them as she sat upon the rock. A small smile appeared upon his lips as he threw the cloth to the side and wrapped his fingers around his rapidly-hardening manhood. Allowing his eyelids to droop once more, he slumped down in the water and began to stroke himself with his left hand, his hook thumping gently against the metal of the tub as he brought himself to climax.  
  
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That night Fee was studying her reflection as well. It had taken her several tries to twine the beads and the pearl into her hair until she was satisfied with the effect, her efforts hampered by the fact that she had only a tiny mirror, making it difficult to view her face and her hair at the same time. Although she had finally been satisfied with her appearance, there was still a faint scowl upon her face. Having decided that her suitor was definitely an Indian, she had found herself increasingly worried as the day wore on that he, used to black-haired, dark-eyed beauties with brown skin, would find her ivory skin and blonde hair virtually colorless and unattractive. Sighing, she picked up her comb and ran it through her already-sleek tresses.   
  
At least, she thought, setting the comb back down, she could be grateful for the fact that her movements were not being watched by the other mermaids. The group that had arrived home from the mating were understandably tired and ravenous, and after eating a large dinner which had mostly come from the food she had gathered during the day, they had all settled down to sleep. She was certain that no one would be watching her as she swam off to her assignation.  
  
Smoothing her long hair down her front, she felt her heart pounding violently against the ribs of her chest. Placing the mirror beside her pillow, she turned and watched her mother for several minutes until she was satisfied she was sleeping soundly. Moving her tail very slowly, so that she would make neither noise or perceptible waves, she began to swim away from the colony. She glanced up at the sky, using the bright full moon above to guide her as she made her way to Castle Rock.  
  
As she approached the meeting place, she paused and made her way to the surface, carefully surveying the entrance to the cavern before proceeding. There was a dim light coming from the small opening, and by the way it flickered she surmised that there were torches or a small fire burning within. She felt a small flutter inside of her, the thought that _he_ was waiting for her filling her with hope, expectation, and just a little bit of fear. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she dove back into the water and swam very quickly into the cave, as if she were afraid she might lose her nerve should she not enter the cavern immediately. In her haste, there was little chance that she would have noticed the net that had been lowered into the water and artfully concealed against the dark rocks of the entrance.  
  
Inside the cave, Hook was pacing nervously to and fro, his agitation growing every minute as he began to fear that his plans for the evening had gone awry. But as he heard a small splash in the water, a relieved grin spread across his face, and he stepped away from the torch and back into the shadows of the cave, so he could observe without being seen himself.  
  
She had hopped onto one of the rocks, and by the way she glanced around her fearfully, he knew he had been right to instruct his men to remove the skeletons which ordinarily were chained to them. As she turned and squinted in his direction, he found himself taking in a quick, surprised breath. She was even prettier here in the golden glow of the torch than she had appeared in the moonlight the night before, her skin exuding a human-like warmth rather than shining ghostly silver-grey like the other mermaids. Her hair, he noted, was blonde, curly and abundant, but underneath his eyes detected the generous rise of her bosom and he could almost convince himself that he could see a hint of her delightfully pink nipples as well.  
  
"Are you here?" she asked, her voice echoing strangely in the enclosed space.  
  
"Yes," he answered softly. "I am here." His eyes glanced toward the entrance of the cave, where even now the pirates were beginning to raise the net in order to cut of her escape route. But he had warned them to be very slow and painstakingly silent in their work, so he knew he had to keep her attention focused on him for several minutes yet.   
  
"I am honored that you have come," he said, secure in the way she was still narrowing her eyes against the glare of the torch that she could not see him clearly. "And you are wearing my gift!" he added, an honest note of delight tingeing his voice.  
  
"Yes," she said, blushing quite prettily as she hung her head shyly.   
  
"I have brought you others," he said. And indeed, very near his feet lay a small wooden box filled with a variety of sumptuous jewels with which he intended to tempt her.  
  
"I do not need any others," she answered earnestly. "I only wish for you to teach me more songs."  
  
"Oh, I have many things to teach you," he replied with a low chuckle. "But, I wonder if you are going to give me something?"  
  
"Oh," she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "I have not brought a present for you."  
  
"Ah, but your _presence_ is all that I wish. That-and the honor of knowing your name, little one. Will you not tell me it now?"  
  
"I am Fee," she replied, pronouncing her name in the mermaid fashion, which made it sound almost like the cry of a gull as it circles around the shore.  
  
But Hook simply smiled and nodded. "Fee," he replied, investing a very human-sounding quality to the name. "How beautiful."  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
"I suppose," said Hook, watching as the men brought the net halfway to the surface, "That it is short for 'Fiona'?"  
  
"No," she laughed, shaking her head at the strange-sounding name. "It is merely Fee."  
  
"Ah, but you see, Fiona is a name that means 'white-shouldered-one', and you do indeed have lovely white shoulders," he said, his tone lowering into a silky purr that sent a strange, exciting thrill through the girl's body.  
  
"And what is your name?" she asked, her smile broadening as her eyes continued to search in the dark to see where he was.  
  
"Do you really not know?" he asked slowly.  
  
"No," she answered truthfully.   
  
"Can you not guess?" he prompted.  
  
"Running Deer?" she asked, trying to think of a name that would be suitable for a young Indian brave.  
  
In the dark, Hook's eyes opened in surprise, but he managed to keep his voice neutral. "No, you must try again."  
  
"Fearless Eagle?" she guessed, her smile broadening.  
  
"No, I shall allow you one more chance," he said. For a moment, he had felt a sudden, illogical surge of jealousy against the whole tribe of Indians, but his thoughts in this direction had vanished as he noted that the net had now been raised to its full height. The pirates were quickly securing it with knots and in only a few seconds the trap would be complete.  
  
"Brave Bear?" she asked, a slight giggle in her voice.  
  
"I see I have no choice but to introduce myself," he replied. Striding forth into the light of the torch, he raised his hand to his hat and swept it off his head as he made a low bow before her. "I am James Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger."   
  
  
  
  



	3. The Abduction

HATM 3  
  
Chapter 3: The Abduction  
  
Hook remained bent at the waist with his gaze averted to the floor, but his sharp ears caught the sound of Fee's shocked gasp of surprise. With a flourish, he drew back up to his full height, his hat cradled in his left hand as he perched his hook rather jauntily against his right hip.  
  
"You appear to be surprised, my dear," he said, tossing her a brilliant smile as he cocked his head to the side.  
  
Fee's mouth had dropped open in shock, and her naturally pale skin looked even whiter than it had appeared just a few moments earlier.  
  
"You-you-you were killed by the crocodile," she finally whispered, her eyebrows drawn into a puzzled frown. "Some of the mermaids saw it."  
  
"No, I was _swallowed_ by the crocodile," he corrected her, smoothly. "But I managed to escape."  
  
She shook her head in disbelief.  
  
"It was quite an adventure, actually," he assured her, replacing his hat upon his head as he spoke. "Shall I tell you all about it?"  
  
"No," she said, shivering slightly.   
  
Feeling rather miffed that she had no interest in his tale, a frown appeared on Hook's face as he continued to regard the girl. Not only had Smee taken extra care when shaving his face and waxing his mustache, he had also spent a considerable amount of time combing out the Captain's luxuriant mane of hair. He was quite confident that the silken curls were shining brightly in the glow of the flickering torches, as were the polished buttons upon his coat. Smee had done a commendable job on preparing his clothes as well, and he knew that the vibrant azure hue of the coat was a perfect complement to the cornflower blue of his eyes. In addition, his black boots had been shined to a glossy sheen, and he had donned his best pair of britches and his newest shirt of exquisitely soft linen, the lace at the cuffs falling most gracefully around his hook. That appendage had been carefully chosen as well, the usual large iron claw having been replaced by a delicate stem of silver that branched into two fine talons at the very tip. In short, he fully expected that Fee would be gazing at him with abject delight. So he was more than a little perturbed to see that she continued to stare at him with a look of frank revulsion upon her face.  
  
"But you said the pirates had gone-" she began.  
  
"Of course I did," he answered impatiently. "How else was I going to trick you into coming here tonight?"  
  
Fee stared up at him, a part of her still reeling from the revelation that she had been so cruelly deceived. "What do you want?" she demanded suddenly.  
  
Hook's even white teeth gleamed in the faint light. "Oh, come now, my dear, even _you_ are not quite that innocent," he chuckled. "I think you have a very good idea of what it is that I seek from you."  
  
Fee's jaw hardened in anger.  
  
"As a matter of fact," he continued, "It appears to me that you came here tonight quite prepared to be wooed and courted, perhaps even seduced," he said, noting with satisfaction that a blush had appeared upon her cheeks. "But I am most curious," he said, his voice soft and puzzled as he took a step towards her. "Whatever made you think you would be meeting an Indian brave tonight?"  
  
"This pearl-" she whispered, her hand reaching up to finger the gem that was entwined in her hair.  
  
"Ah, yes," he said narrowing his eyes. "I appropriated it, along with many others, from one of those filthy _savages _on the island," he noted airily.   
  
"You stole it," she said angrily. Her eyes widened in alarm. "Did you kill him as well?" she gasped.  
  
Hook shrugged his shoulders. "I don't remember," he answered grumpily. "Besides," he said, turning and walking towards the chest. "I have brought you jewels that put that tawdry trinket to shame."   
  
Throwing the lid open, he reached down and plunged his arm into the glittering treasure. Striding back to face Fee, he held out his hook, upon which sparkled an assortment of golden chains, gemstones and a long string of large, milky-white pearls. To his annoyance, she regarded them with stony disdain.  
  
"You can keep your filthy jewels!" she cried, the flush on her face due to anger rather than embarrassment now. Raising her head proudly, she added, "I'm afraid that you have chosen the wrong bait for your hook tonight, Captain."  
  
"Have I?" replied Hook, his teeth clenched together in anger. "Perhaps you would prefer that I serenade you with another of those insipid songs instead?"  
  
"Don't bother," she said. "Your music will never tempt me again, Hook!"  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure," he snarled. "I swear the other night my singing left you-" He paused and lowered his voice into a silky purr, "-positively quivering with delight."  
  
"How dare you!" she said, her eyes stinging with tears of disappointment and shame. "You are a conceited ass!" she declared.  
  
"And you, my dear, are a lovely but much too trusting little fool," he hissed. Raising his hand to his hook, he angrily began to peel off the strands of jewelry. Turning back towards the chest, he tossed the jewels on top of the rest of the treasure.   
  
He smiled as he heard a loud splash behind him.  
  
"Going without even saying goodbye?" he taunted. "I think not."  
  
But Fee had not heard him as she swam swiftly away toward the entrance of the cavern. Indeed, she seemed to be completely oblivious to her surroundings, conscious only of the fact that her chest felt uncomfortably tight and that there was a curious ache in her throat. As such, she did not even notice the net as it loomed in front of her in the murky water.   
  
She was propelling herself with such force that the impact with the taut fibers sent her reeling backwards, dazed from the shock of the collision. Before she had even realized what had happened, the net was wrapped tightly around her and with a sickening lurch she found herself lifted out of the water and suspended in midair in the cold, clammy chill of the cavern.  
  
She felt weak and dizzy as the net spun wildly through the air. Closing her eyes, she shuddered and tried to ignore the triumphant cries of the pirates echoing against the walls of the cavern.   
  
Taking in a deep breath, she forced herself to open her eyes once more. As the trap continued to revolve, she was vaguely aware of the smug, laughing faces of the pirates below her. Glancing upward, she saw to her distress that the ends of the net were now securely cinched together.   
  
"Well done, well done. Let our little fish down slowly now."  
  
That was Hook's voice. Looking down, Fee saw that he was in a small boat, a pair of pirates applying themselves furiously to the oars as they rowed the vessel towards her.  
  
Her fear suddenly overcame her vertigo and she began to wildly thrash her tail back and forth. Even encumbered by the folds of the netting, it was still a formidable weapon, and to her satisfaction she felt it make contact with one of the pirates, causing him to yelp in pain and throwing him backward into the water. Redoubling her efforts, she saw to her satisfaction that several of the other men were scurrying away as well and she felt the net begin to loosen around her. A moment later, she found herself hurtling toward the ground as most of the pirates released their hold on the ropes. But as she crashed to the rock, she heard Hook's enraged bellow.   
  
"Get some rope around her, damn you!" barked Hook. "I swear I'll keelhaul the lot of you if you let her escape!" he warned.  
  
Knowing that she had no time to try and escape from the net, she turned onto her belly, her elbows chafing against the rough surface of the rock as she struggled to squirm her way back into the water. She had only gone a few inches when she screamed out in agony as a piercing pain ripped through her lower body. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that a large pirate was standing upon the net and pinning one of her delicate tail fins to the ground using the sharp heel of his boot. She struggled to free herself, and felt the fragile tissue began to tear under the strain.  
  
"Idiots!" yelled Hook. "The rest of you hold her down!"  
  
A whole group men fell down on top of her, and she found herself pinioned under their combined weight. The pressure of the spiky boot heel against her fin was suddenly lifted, but only so that a heavy loop of rope could be fastened around her tail.  
  
As the men rose from on top of her, she tried to move away but found that her tail was now securely lashed in place, the end of the rope tied through one of the massive iron rings that was embedded in the rock. She managed to flop over on her back, but before she could make any other movement more of the coils of heavy twine were quickly wound around her and she found herself trapped within the net with her arms pinned to her side.  
  
Panting from her fruitless exertions, she glared at Hook as he slowly moved into view and stood beside her.  
  
"Hush now," he said quietly, as he down knelt beside her. "I do not wish to hurt you and you must realize that there is no use in fighting."  
  
She threw her head back and began to chew at the coarse fibers of the net pressing painfully against her face, trying her best to cut through them. But it took only a few seconds for her to admit the futility of the effort, for her small teeth were no match for the thick cord.  
  
Hook realized this as well. Bending down nearer to her, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. "Ah, you do have much prettier teeth than your sisters, but they are not quite as useful, are they?" he mocked.  
  
The pirates, who had been leaning down and attempting to overhear the Captain's soft words, suddenly drew back in terror as he shrieked in pain. Raising his hand to his face, he stared in horror at the large gash inflicted upon his index finger and the bright river of red blood running down his hand and staining the pristine cuff of his white shirt.  
  
There was blood on Fee's lips as well as she stared up at him with a victorious, feral grin upon her face. Her teeth might not have been nearly as long or as sharp as the other mermaids, but they were still quite capable of inflicting a painful bite upon human flesh.  
  
The crowd took in a collective breath and there was a horrified silence as Hook raised his arm into the air, the light glinting off of his hook as a faint shimmer of scarlet appearing in his eyes. Fee trembled and squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
Fee peered through her lashes and saw that a white-haired pirate had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and was timidly holding out a handkerchief in front of Hook's face.   
  
"Don't you think you should bandage that wound, Captain?" he asked, timidly.  
  
The red light slowly faded away from Hook's eyes as he focused upon the handkerchief..  
  
"Thank you, Smee," he said, diffidently. Holding out his arm, he allowed the man to wrap the clean cloth around his hand. Once the bandage was secure, he returned his attention to Fee. "If you ever bite me again," he said, his voice measured and chilled, "You will pay dearly. Do you understand?" he hissed.  
  
She nodded, another shiver running through her that was partly due to the cold air of the cavern and partly due to fear at the change in Hook's demeanor.   
  
"Put her in the boat!" he ordered, rising to his feet and sounding quite exasperated.  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain," the pirates responded.  
  
Fee made no attempt to resist as they picked her up and bundled her into the small craft. Hook stepped down into the boat and took a seat on the bench beside her. With an impatient snap of his fingers, the wooden treasure chest was placed on the other side of his feet. She remained silent as she heard the pirates pile into the other boats and begin to row toward the ship. She had one more chance of escaping, but knew that she dare not make the attempt until they were out of the cave and upon the open water. She could only hope that the other mermaids were not so exhausted by their recent mating journey that they would fail to awaken and rush to her aid.  
  
Hook, for his part, seemed to be placated by her apparent acquiescence, and smiled down at her rather indulgently as she lay quietly beside his feet. After a few moments, he even began to hum the tune of "Barbara Allen" under his breath, as she heard the quiet splash of the oars moving through the water.  
  
She forced herself to remain silent until the tops of the tall masts of the ship came into view. And then she opened her mouth and uttered a prolonged, ear-splitting screech that immediately caused the pirates to clap their hands over their ears.  
  
Hook, of course, was rather at a disadvantage, having only one hand with which to muffle the sound. Quickly giving up the attempt to shut out the sound of her scream, he knelt down beside her and Fee's cries abruptly stopped as she felt the cold metal of his hook against her throat.  
  
"Cease that caterwauling immediately!" he demanded. With a subtle pressure, he allowed the sharp talons to dig slightly into soft skin. "You have such a pretty singing voice, it would be a shame to have to rip out your vocal cords," he murmured, his face very close to hers.  
  
"Captain!" The pirate's voice sounded very worried.  
  
"What is it?" asked Hook irritably, keeping his hook upon Fee's throat even as he glanced at the speaker.  
  
"I think there are other mermaids coming, Captain."  
  
Fee smiled as she heard the familiar splashing coming from all sides of the boat and saw Hook's complexion grow paler in the moonlight.  
  
"Damn!" he muttered, rising to his knees and closing his eyes for a moment.   
  
Fee gasped as the sharp metal dug further into her flesh.  
  
"Call them off!" ordered Hook, opening his eyes and staring down at her.  
  
"No," she mouthed, her eyes blazing back into his.   
  
"Captain?"   
  
Fee recognized this voice as belonging to Smee.   
  
"You know they could easily overturn these boats, Captain?" he asked, nervously.  
  
"Aye, and unlike _this_ pretty little bitch, they have real fangs and claws!" added another.  
  
"Yes," whispered Hook, a dangerous scowl upon his face. He abruptly raised his hook from Fee's throat, but instead of moving to release her, he reached into his coat with his hook and removed a small glass vial. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding it carefully in the talons as he bent down over the mermaid again.  
  
Fee stared at the thick red liquid contained within the bottle and shook her head.  
  
"It is a poison, my dear, a very _lethal _poison, I assure you," said Hook, tilting the vial back and forth so that it sparkled in the moonlight. "So lethal that a mere drop within a glass is enough to kill a man."  
  
Transferring the bottle to his hand, he used his hook to deftly pull out the cork. A faint, ominous mist arose from the vial as the cork skittered against the floorboards. "How many of your little friends will die if I pour the entire contents into the ocean?" he asked, moving his arm over the side of the boat.  
  
"No!" she cried.  
  
"Then tell them that you are quite content to come with me and that they should leave," he demanded, tilting the bottle to the side so that the red liquid threatened to flow out of the neck.  
  
"They won't believe me!" she pleaded.  
  
"Make them believe you," he said, holding the bottle steady with the deadly liquid only a fraction of an inch from the top.  
  
The mermaids were all around the boats now, and she heard them calling out.  
  
_"Who is it, who is in trouble?" _they asked.  
  
_"It is Fee,"_ she replied, trying hard not to let her fear show in her voice. _ "But you must go away."_  
  
_"Fee?"_ echoed several of the voices.  
  
She glanced up at Hook and saw that he was watching her very carefully, the bottle still poised in his hands.  
  
_"What are you doing with the pirates?"_ asked one. But she sounded peeved rather than concerned.  
  
_"Please, you must go away," _she pleaded.  
  
_"Why would the pirates waste their time with her?"_ asked another, contemptuously.  
  
Several of the mermaids began to laugh very loudly at this remark. Hook, who had been listening to the conversation very carefully, attempting to discern the gist while not being able to decipher the words, looked very puzzled indeed.  
  
There were several splashes and then Fee could only hear faint murmuring as the mermaids apparently went underneath the water to discuss the situation. After several minutes, there was another slosh as a single mermaid returned to the surface.  
  
Hook turned to watch Fee's face carefully as she listened to the mermaid speak and saw to his surprise that there were tears forming in her eyes.  
  
"What does she say?" he asked, his own eyes fearful and suspicious.  
  
"She says-" Fee stopped and took in a deep, shuddering breath. "She says that they would be very happy for you to take me."  
  
Hook's eyebrows rose in surprise.  
  
"As long as you give them some treasure," she added, bitterly.  
  
Hook stared down at her for several moments and then nodded his head. "I see," he said, softly.  
  
She turned away from him and stared at the side of the boat, anguished at the thought of how her sisters had betrayed her. Her arms were bound so tightly against her that she could not even raise her hand to her face to wipe away the tears that had begun to flow out of her eyes.  
  
"Hmm." Hook bent down and retrieved the cork, stuffing it securely back into the bottle before replacing the vial within his coat pocket. With a bemused grin upon his face, he reached down and picked up the treasure chest.  
  
"Smee?"  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"It appears that this greedy little group is quite willing to sell one of their own to me," he said, handing over the box.. "See that they are repaid for their astute decision with a few of these jewels. Not anything too costly, of course, but I doubt they will be satisfied with anything too simple or plain," he noted, sitting down upon the bench.   
  
_"Like a single, exquisite pearl," _thought Fee sadly, even now feeling the outline of the gem press against her head as she kept her face determinedly turned away from the Captain. No, none of the other mermaids would have treasured that unpretentious ornament as she had.  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain," answered Smee.   
  
She heard a rustling sound as Smee began to pick through the jewels. After a few moments, there were several loud splashes as he tossed the gems out into the water, and she heard the excited cries of the mermaids as they began to fight amongst each other to retrieve the spoils.  
  
"A few more should be sufficient," said Hook, languidly.  
  
Fee stiffened as she heard him bend down beside her again.  
  
"Would you like me to poison them now?" he asked.  
  
Startled, she turned to look at him and saw that his face was quite solemn and serious. She could almost convince herself that there was a trace of sympathy in those pale blue eyes as well.  
  
"No," she answered, shuddering and turning away from him once more.   
  
Although she hated the mermaids at the moment, she could not bring herself to wish their deaths. Besides, what if her mother were nearby?. More hot tears burned down her cheeks at the thought of how distraught her mother would be to find out what had happened to her. _If _the other mermaids told her the truth, which she doubted.  
  
"As you wish," he said, returning to his seat.  
  
Smee tossed another handful of jewels into the water, and then Hook gave the order to proceed to the ship.   
  



	4. A Long Night's Journey Into Day

HATM 4  
  
Chapter 4  
  
A Long Night's Journey Into Day  
  
  
  
As the ship's outline came into view, Fee wearily closed her eyes and allowed a long, sad sigh to escape from her lips. After all of the shocks and disappointments of the evening, she felt inexpressibly weary and drained. Her body, still tightly bound by the coils of rope and the net, felt heavy and useless and a dark depression was swiftly descending upon her spirit. She did not watch as Hook clambered up the side of the boat and then directed the pirates as they placed her in a sling and used a windlass to hoist her over the side onto the deck.  
  
She ventured to open her eyes as they picked her up and carried her through a doorway into a compartment within the ship, but she could only make out vague shapes in the dim light. Then she was placed down upon the floor again, and heard Hook shout out orders for lamps to be lit. The sudden brightness was decidedly painful after the prolonged gloom, and she winced and blinked as her eyes gradually adjusted to the new light. Once her vision had cleared, she realized to her horror that the pirates were staring down at her with undisguised lust upon their dirty faces. Glancing down, she realized that her hair had been swept back behind her shoulders during the struggle. Her bare breasts were fully exposed, the black criss-crossing of the netting digging painfully against the firm white flesh and pale pink nipples.  
  
"She is a beauty, Captain," ventured one of the men, as the others murmured and whistled softly in approval.  
  
She shut her eyes again and shivered involuntarily. She had fully expected that Hook had taken her for his own pleasure, but she was now beginning to fear that he meant to share her with his entire crew. By the looks of their faces, she expected at any moment for their filthy, clumsy hands to be upon her, pawing and mauling her soft flesh while rough fingers wrenched apart the fins covering the intimate part of her body.   
  
"Yes," retorted Hook coolly. "And I trust she is also wise enough to know that any further disobedience will not be tolerated," he added, a definite tone of warning in his voice. "Cut through her bonds," he ordered.  
  
Keeping her eyes shut tightly, Fee bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to remain absolutely still as she felt the cold steel of a blade press against her body as they began to cut away the rope and the netting. In truth, she had already decided that there was no point in trying to fight them off. She hardly had no intention of being a willing partner to any of them. But she had decided that they would merely be amused and perhaps aroused by any further attempts on her part to fight them off, and that a silent, passive resistance might mean that her ordeal would be over as quickly as possible.  
  
Trying to remain very still, she felt her heart begin to start hammering against her chest, and was aware of a painful tingling as the circulation returned to the areas of her body where the coils had dug down into her skin. The rope and net were tossed to the side and she stifled a cry as she felt fingers wrap themselves around her wrists and pull her arms above her head. At the same time, other hands were thrust underneath her tail and she found herself being lifted into the air again.  
  
She assumed they were carrying her over to one of their beds-for one of the mermaids had told her once that land-dwellers slept and mated upon strange platforms built above the ground. Instead, she gasped in shock as the hands suddenly released their hold and she felt herself falling into lukewarm, salty water instead.   
  
She opened her eyes just in time to see a thick oak board with several large holes bored through it slam down onto the top of the tank. Turning to the side, she saw Hook place a huge padlock through two heavy metal loops and snap it shut in order to hold the lid closed. As her hands reached out and made contact with the sparkling glass at the sides of the tank he smiled down at her and rapped his knuckles against the sturdy lid, nodding in satisfaction at the sound of the dense wood. Behind him, the pirates were beginning to file out of the room, some of them looking quite disappointed and throwing jealous glances at the back of their captain's head.  
  
Hook turned away from the tank and walked over to his desk. A moment later, Fee was startled to find Smee's bearded face appearing in front of her, as he bent down and smiled at her through the glass.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss," he said, his voice somewhat distorted as it traveled through the water to her ears.  
  
She stared at him and moved onto her side, her forehead wrinkled in a puzzled frown, wondering why he was daring to apologize in front of Hook for what had happened to her.  
  
"The Captain wasn't real clear on what he was hunting for tonight," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm afraid the tank is rather plain. Would you like it if I found you some pretty shells, or some nice-colored coral or a bit of nice, white sand to put on the bottom?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.  
  
Somehow, it was even harder for Fee to look into his honest, friendly eyes than it had been to stare into the faces of the leering pirates. She shook her head and turned away from him, staring out through the glass to the wall of the cabin.   
  
"You can decorate her pen tomorrow," interjected Hook, irritably. "Right now, I want you to go fetch me some supper."  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain," said Smee, his manner deferential and amiable as ever. "There's still a good bit of that leg of mutton remaining, along with some potatoes and fresh-baked bread. And, uh-" He paused and looked over at the tank.  
  
"Yes, bring something for her as well," he answered, moving to undo the buttons of his coat.  
  
"What do mermaids eat?" asked Smee, honestly perplexed.  
  
Hook glanced at the tank, but if Fee had overheard the question, she did not seem inclined to answer the question.  
  
"I suppose they normally eat things they find in the sea," he answered slowly, rather annoyed with himself for not thinking of such things before.  
  
"Cooked or uncooked?"  
  
Hook's frown deepened as he pondered the matter. "I assume uncooked," he admitted, finally. To be honest, the thought of watching her feast upon a raw fish or a live, snapping lobster bothered him more than he cared to admit. "But I suppose bread would be easy enough for her to digest. And I have seen mermaids sitting upon the rocks and stuffing themselves with fruit that has dropped from the trees into the lagoon."  
  
"Yes," said Smee, nodding his head in agreement. "I'll bring some pears and apples as well," he declared, as he hurried out to make his way towards the galley.  
  
As the door slammed shut behind Smee, Hook shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair. Unwinding the gun belts from over his shoulders he lad them upon the desk and then raised his hand to head and swept off his hat as well, laying it on top of his pistol. Sitting down, he turned his attention to his handkerchief-wrapped hand. Slowly pulling off the red-stained cloth, he studied his damaged finger intently for a moment. Raising his hand in the air, he gingerly flexed the joints and grimaced as it began to throb in pain, and saw a small droplet of blood make its way from the clotted surface of the wound. He supposed he had better have Smee attend to it properly when he returned.  
  
Returning his gaze to the tank, he silently perused Fee's form as she remained turned away from him. She had modestly drawn her hair to her front again and her bare back and shoulders appeared smooth and white in the warm light of the lamps. He ran his eyes down the delicate curve of her spine and smiled to himself as he observed the gently rounded rump that was covered in small, gleaming scales. Perhaps he had been too long without a woman, but he would swear at the moment that the sight of her little green backside made a pair of firm, smooth buttocks look quite pedestrian in comparison. Allowing his gaze to travel down the rest of her body, he frowned as he observed that the ragged tear in her tail fin. He supposed that for a mermaid, a fin might be as free of sensation as a fingernail for a human-but he rather doubted it. In any case, the wound certainly looked painful.   
  
_"Damn Rogers to hell!"_ he thought, shaking his head in disgust. _"Couldn't he have just stepped on her tail with the front of his boot rather than mashing down upon it with his heel?"_  
  
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts on the matter. Smee entered, holding a board upon which was placed a large bowl of steaming water, a small towel and a small metal box.   
  
"Your food will be here directly, Captain," he said, setting down his burden. "But I thought I'd better tend to that bite first," he said, nodding at the blood handkerchief lying in front of Hook. Opening the lid of the box, he removed two small bottles, a sewing needle and thread, and a large handful of clean, white cloths.  
  
"Very good, Smee," he answered, and held out his hand.   
  
A few minutes later, the wound had been cleaned and dressed, Smee spending a few minutes tut-tutting over the gash before deciding that stitches would not be needed. Just as he was finishing tying the ends of the bandage together, there was another knock upon the door and a pirate entered bearing a large tray upon which several dishes and plates had been arranged.   
  
Smee handed the captain a large, white napkin and dished out a plentiful supply of meat and potatoes onto his plate before pouring out a small measure of wine into one of his glasses fashioned from a sea shell. Picking up one of the large, red apples from the tray, he used one of the sharp knives to deftly cut it into eight even segments and piled them onto a small plate.  
  
"Shall I-?" he began, motioning in Fee's direction.  
  
"No," replied Hook, waving his hand impatiently. "Leave it on the desk for now."  
  
Smee nodded and placed the dish down upon the highly polished wood. "Anything else, Captain?"  
  
"No, you may leave," he said, unfolding his napkin and arranging it carefully across his lap.   
  
Smee nodded again and turned to make his way to the door, but the other pirate was still standing in one spot, gazing fixedly at Fee's form within the sparkling glass tank.   
  
"You may go," Hook repeated pointedly.  
  
But still Smee had to tap the man on the shoulder before he turned with a start and followed him out of the door.  
  
Raising the shell to his lips, Hook took a large sip of the wine, using his tongue to swirl the red liquid in his mouth for several seconds in order to fully appreciate the taste and bouquet of the vintage before he swallowed it. Leaning back in his chair, he continued to stare at Fee as he tilted his head back to drain the rest of the wine.   
  
_"An excellent wine,"_ he thought, setting the vessel back down upon the desk. _"Perhaps a glass or two would help put my 'guest' in a more amiable mood."_ With a smile, he turned in his chair and retrieved another shell-glass from the cupboard. Picking up the wine bottle, he refilled his own glass and had begun to pour a few drops into the second before abruptly stopping as a frown crossed his face.  
  
He had assumed that since mermaids ate, that they were capable of drinking as well. But it had just occurred to him that he had never seen a mermaid drink out of any kind of vessel. And things like glasses filled with liquid would certainly be useless underneath the water, wouldn't they?  
  
Setting the bottle down with a thump, he picked up his own glass and took another large gulp. _  
  
Perhaps they simply absorb sea water and ther liquids through their skin?_  
  
Taking another swallow, he rubbed his forehead tiredly with his hook. He had to admit that it was there were a great many details about the living habits of mermaids that he had not given much thought to before deciding to capture one to keep for himself. He had no clue as to what they ate or drank or even-  
  
He sighed and leaned back in his chair again, his gaze returning to the tank.  
  
He was certain that it was possible for a mermaid to provide sexual solace for a human male-there was certainly rumors and whispers that lucky pirates had, upon occasion, disported themselves themselves with the half-human creatures. But as to just how that joining was accomplished, he was finding himself shockingly ignorant. Her upper body was exquisitely womanly, the sight of her generous and firm bosom arousing him most pleasurably. But beneath her waist, her body appeared to be a solid appendage, covered on every square inch with shiny, close-set scales and fins, with not a hint of a depression or an orifice as far as he could discern. Of course, he had not yet examined her quite as closely as he would like, but at the moment he had to admit that he was baffled as to exactly how he was supposed to steer his 'ship' into her 'harbor', as it were.  
  
And unfortunately the other pirates seemed just as eager as he was to explore her pretty little form. He supposed, in retrospect, it would have been wiser to wait a bit longer after reasserting himself as their leader before having the audacity to claim her as his prize. They had certainly seemed reluctant to leave the cabin, throwing covetous looks upon his prisoner. But he would make it clear that anyone daring to lay a hand upon her would find himself having to answer to his hook.  
  
Not_ this_ hook, of course, he thought, turning his eyes to the delicate appendage he was sporting this evening. While highly decorative, it was hardly the awe-inspiring weapon that he usually wore. He snorted softly through his nose as he twisted his wrist and let the lamplight glint off of the polished metal.   
  
Much good it had done him to wear this elegant prosthesis this evening-she had regarded him with a mixture of terror and loathing. And while he was not above using her fear as a means of asserting his dominance over her, there was a part of him that had secretly hoped she would have been delighted to find out who her admirer was.  
  
Raising his hand to the hook, he allowed his fingers to travel lightly over the shiny, smooth surface of the metal. Perhaps, he thought, turning his eyes to Fee again, it would be to his advantage to try and flatter her with soft words and kind gestures. She had certainly seemed receptive to them the other night.  
  
He pushed back from the desk, deliberately allowing the chair legs to squeak loudly against the floorboards. Rising to his feet, he picked up the plate upon which Smee had placed the apple slices. After a moment's hesitation, he added a piece of bread to the dish as well, and then reached out to pick up the bottle with his hook and pour some wine into the second shell-glass.   
  
He could at least _offer _her the wine he supposed.  
  
With the dish grasped in his hand and the glass balanced upon his hook, he walked over to the tank very slowly, making no attempt to silence the sound of his footsteps, noting that her body had stiffened perceptively as he made his way towards her. Stopping at the side of the tank, he looked down at her and waited several seconds for her to acknowledge his presence. Instead, she remained on her side, looking in the opposite direction and staring at the cabin wall.  
  
"I have brought you some food and drink," he said, keeping his voice casual and polite.  
  
Fee made no reply.  
  
Forcing a solicitous smile upon his face, Hook stepped around to the other side of the tank, placing himself directly in front of her. Bending down, he held out the plate and glass in front of her.  
  
"Come now, it is quite good," he urged.  
  
She kept her eyes focused on the wall behind him, refusing to look him in the face or spare even a glance in the direction of the food.  
  
"Or if there is something else you would prefer, I am sure Smee would be happy to prepare it for you."  
  
The occasional blink of her eyes was the only discernible movement.  
  
"I am truly sorry that you were injured," he added, setting down the plate and cup down upon the lid. His voice was low and contrite. "Smee brought some medicine for my finger," he said, waving his bandaged hand in front of the glass. "Perhaps we should put some on your damaged fin as well?"  
  
For a moment, Fee's eyes moved to Hook's face, throwing him a look of utter contempt. "No," she mouthed, closing her eyes and turning upon her back with her arms folded tightly over her chest.  
  
Hook took a step towards the tank and bent down so that he could gaze at Fee's face through the holes that were drilled in the lid.  
  
"My dear Fiona," he said, his tone still low, but no longer apologetic. "Your stay here can either be very enjoyable for both of us, or very..." he paused and tapped his hook against the lid before continuing, "..._unpleasant_ for you.".  
  
Fee's eyes opened slightly, and Hook was surprised that she looked angry rather than scared.  
  
"So I would suggest that you start cooperating with me," he said, moving to retrieve the dish and the cup. "For I assure you that you would prefer to be receiving presents rather than punishments at my hand."  
  
Fee's hand moved up to caress the pearl that was still tangled in the hair at her temple.  
  
"Yes, presents such as that pearl. As I said, I am quite prepared to be generous with you," he continued, raising his voice slightly as he moved back towards the desk. "If you please me, I will be most happy to pamper and reward you with music and jewels-"  
  
He stopped and turned his head at the sound of something skittering across the floor behind him. It took a few seconds for him to recognize it as the pearl, with several of Fee's long blonde strands still attached to it. She had apparently managed to work it through one of the holes in the lid and by the time he glanced back at her she was once again on her side, facing away from him.  
  
Hook uttered an oath and slammed the dishes down upon the desk with such force that the shell was jarred loose from its stand and a few of the apple pieces tumbled off of the plate. He pivoted on his heel and took a few angry strides back toward the tank before checking himself.  
  
Bending down, he picked up the pearl and stuffed it angrily into the pocket of his britches, barely fighting back the urge to open up the lid and force the jewel down her ungrateful throat. Instead, he stomped back to the desk and poured himself another measure of wine.  
  
So, she was determined to be mope and sulk, haughtily throwing back his gift and refusing his kind offer to join him for supper this evening? Very well. Then perhaps he would just withhold food from her for a day or two or three and see how willful she would be once her belly was empty and growling with hunger.   
  
He threw himself into his chair and drained the glass in one large gulp.  
  
And he just might let her whole tail rot off before he offered her any medicine again, he vowed to himself.  
  
For her part, Fee was barely able to keep from trembling as she heard Hook's angry movements behind her. But she had discovered that, thanks to the fortuitous arrangement of the furniture within his cabin, if she tilted her head to a certain angle, she could actually see his image reflected in the polished glass in front of her. Though she was effectively trapped within the walls of her cage, she at least could reassure herself that at the moment he was safely seated at the desk and that she was in no immediate danger. She watched carefully as he poured himself another glass of wine and then picked up a knife and fork and began to savagely attack the food upon his plate. There was a loud clattering of metal against china, and she watched as he angrily stabbed some pieces of the meat and brought it to his lips. After a few minutes of this frenzied feeding, however, she heard him utter another oath and there was another ear-splitting clang as he threw the silverware to the side. Picking up the entire loaf of bread in his hand, he raised it to his mouth and hungrily gnawed at the heel. But this did not seem to satisfy him either, for he soon tossed it aside as well and got to his feet. Stalking over to one of the shelves along the wall, he grabbed a large bottle and proceeded to open it with his teeth, spitting the cork out upon the floor before heading back to his seat. Raising his feet to the desk, he angrily shoved the dishes away with his boots before throwing back his head to begin gulping down the liquid.  
  
He remained in his chair for a long time, continuing to glower at the tank with narrowed eyes and then turning back to take more swallows from the bottle. Finally the silence was broken by the faint sound of laughter from somewhere in the ship and then Fee heard one of the pirates begin to play a song upon a wheezy accordion.  
  
Apparently, the Captain was not in the mood for a musical interlude this evening, for he rose immediately (if a bit unsteadily) to his feet and, setting the bottle down with a loud thud, picked up the pistol and charged toward the cabin door. Throwing it open, he immediately discharged a shot, the sudden bang causing Fee to flinch within her tank.   
  
She threw a cautious glance over her shoulder, and saw that he was swaying slightly as he stood in the doorway.  
  
"Shut up!" he roared, "And I don't want to hear another sound from you worthless, scurvy bastards!"   
  
"Yes, sir, captain, I'll keep them quiet," came Smee's reply, his voice low and soothing.  
  
"See that you do," sniffed Hook. Shoving the door closed, he proceeded to set the deadbolt in place and then transferred the gun to his hook so that he could search in his trousers for the key. He managed to find it but other objects, including the pearl, spilled out of his pockets as he drew it out.  
  
Fee found herself staring at him as he fumbled to place the key within the lock, not quite understanding the change in his demeanor or the cause of his unsteadiness and slurred speech. The only beverages the mermaids drank were fruit juices or the occasional mouthful of fresh water from one of the Neverland waterfalls, so she was completely ignorant of what alcohol was, or what effect it had upon the body.  
  
Hook finally managed to lock the door and then transferred the gun back to his hook as he bent down to pick up the rest of the scattered items. After several useless swipes of his hand, he muttered another curse and lowered himself onto his knees. Still, with his dulled reflexes, it took a long time before he was able to gather up the objects and stuff them back into his pocket.  
  
Fee turned away as he hoisted himself to his feet and leaned back against the door, glaring balefully around the room. His gaze fell upon the bottle that he had left upon the desk.   
  
In the black, foul mood that he had fallen into tonight, neither wine or brandy had seemed appropriate. Instead, he had sought out a large bottle of another spirit. Putting the gun down, he reached out and grabbed the bottle by the neck and brought it up to his lips, taking another large swallow.  
  
Rum, the proverbial drink of a pirate, he thought, as he held the bottle out at arm's length and tilted it back and forth, watching the liquid slosh against the glass and sparkle in the light of the lamps. And he was a pirate, after all.  
  
"No," he thought to himself, "You are not _just_ a pirate, you are the _quintessential _pirate."  
  
Placing the bottle back down upon the desk with such force that it was a wonder it didn't shatter, he turned and regarded Fee's still form within the tank.   
  
And the quintessential pirate would not be trying to coax or bribe a stubborn, stupid wench into surrendering her body to him. A pirate took any woman he wanted, using brute force or the steel of his blade to force her into submission if necessary. And by God, that is just what he intended to do.  
  
He took a few steps toward the tank, and then halted as the room seemed to suddenly spin around him. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and waited for the dizziness to subside.   
  
He had had a little too much to drink, he decided ruefully, opening his eyes and raising his hand to his head to run his fingers through the brown curls. Perhaps it would be better to wait until he sobered up a bit before he ravished her, he decided. Yes, he thought, pivoting unsteadily and lurching back to the other side of the room, particularly as he had no desire to let her know that he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to accomplish the joining.  
  
For her part, Fee had sensed a dangerous change in his demeanor, and found herself feeling very afraid as she heard Hook extinguish the lamps and darkness fell upon the room. No longer able to see his reflected image, she began to tremble as her ears strained to listen for any sign that he was approaching her. She heard some vague, rustling and clicking sounds and then jumped in shock as a loud clang resounded through the room as something dropped against the floorboards. Then Hook issued a long, deep sigh and she heard a dull thud as he fell heavily into the bed. For a few moments there was nothing to be heard except for the creaking of the ship and the sound of the fluttering sails wafting in through the open window. And then came a strange sound, low and vague at first but quickly becoming stronger and more even in its rhythm. Although she had never before heard a human snore, she knew instinctively that it meant that he had fallen into a deep sleep.  
  
Assured that he was unaware of her movements, Fee turned onto her stomach and gazed around the room. For a moment, her eyes focused on a pale, ghostly form that appeared to be floating through the air. She blinked in surprise, and then belatedly realized that it was merely his white shirt that was hanging from the end of the bedpost and blowing gently in the breeze. Her gaze shifted to the floor as something gleamed in the moonlight, and she started again as she saw that it was his hook.   
  
This obviously explained the loud clanking sound she had heard. But the steel appendage seemed to be such a part of him that it seemed almost obscene to see it lying there, abandoned. In a way, even the sight of his severed hand would only have been marginally more horrific, she thought. She studied the cuff and leather harness intently, wondering why it had not occurred to her before that the hook did not spring out of the end of his arm, but had to be fastened somehow to his body.  
  
A particularly loud snore drew Fee's attention to Hook's form as he lay sprawled upon the bed. Although the covers were drawn up to his neck, he had kicked aside the blanket from the lower part of his body. His left leg dangled over the side of the bed, and to her surprise she saw that he had removed neither his trousers nor his boots. She studied his face for a moment, his eyes tightly shut and his mouth slightly open as he continued to snore loudly. Satisfied that he was sleeping far too soundly to be bothered by any quiet sounds that she might make, she lifted her hands to the sides of the tank and ran her fingers along the glass.  
  
The tank was rectangular in shape, three feet wide by six foot long, and nearly four feet in depth. It was filled halfway, allowing her to be completely submerged when she lay down but with a generous amount of air when she sat up. The walls seemed to be very thick, the seals between the glass and the wood entirely secure. The heavy cover was secured to the tank by means of a hinge and, rising to a seated position, she raised her hands to the lid and pressed upward with as much strength as she could muster. The lid rose a mere fraction of an inch before meeting the resistance of the padlock, with no hope that she could work her finger or any kind of implement through the small gap. With a resigned shake of her head, she lay back down and considered her options.  
  
Obviously, her bare hands were useless against the thick panes of glass, and Hook was hardly stupid or careless enough to grant her access to any object heavy or sharp enough to batter through the sides. Even if he were-how could she hope to escape? The sound of breaking glass and the rush of water would hardly go unnoticed even if she managed to wiggle through the shards and splinters without causing serious injury to herself. And should she manage to make her way back to the ocean, she was sure that the other mermaids would merely capture and return her to the ship-in return for more of Hook's treasure.  
  
Feeling tears springing to her eyes, she turned onto her side and rested her head against her arm. The beads that were still twined in her hair scratched softly against her skin.  
  
Tiger Lily and the Indians, she thought suddenly. Perhaps _they_ would be willing to protect her?  
  
No, she decided, closing her eyes wearily and shivering as she remembered Hook's threat to use the poison on the mermaids. He obviously had little regard for the Indians, and they had enough of their own problems with the pirates without endangering themselves further on her behalf.   
  
The mermen?  
  
She opened her eyes and gazed out, unseeing, through the glass. She wasn't even sure if she could find her way to them, much less that they would allow her to join their colony. Not unless-  
  
She allowed a small, sad laugh to escape from her lips. Perhaps they would be willing to take her in if she agreed to continually mate with all of them.   
  
Turning on her back again, she crossed her arms over her chest. If that was the only 'kindness' she could expect, why not stay here? At least it seemed that she would only have to prostitute herself with one male instead of many.  
  
In spite of her situation, she found her eyelids drooping heavily. She had slept little the night before, and now she was feeling quite exhausted, her injured tail fin beginning to throb with a dull ache. Hook certainly appeared to have settled down for the night, so she might as well try and get some rest herself. Keeping her arms wrapped around her, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the strange, cool sensation of the glass against her body. Perhaps, she thought, finding herself yawning, she _would _ask Smee to bring her some sand tomorrow.  
  
She fell asleep almost immediately, but found herself waking several times during the night. Each time, she would gaze around in confusion for a moment before hearing Hook's snores and remembering where she was. And so she tossed and turned, dreaming confused jumbled images which faded from her consciousness as soon as she opened her eyes. Each time the light in the cabin was slightly different as the moon rose and set, and the pale grey mist of dawn slowly crept in through the open window.   
  
But when she next awoke, the room was filled with the warm glow of the midmorning sun. She stared upward for several seconds, wondering why the something seemed amiss, and then realized that instead of looking at the lid of the tank, she was gazing onto the ceiling of the room. And just as it struck here that she could no longer hear the steady rhythm of Hook's snores coming from the other side of the room, she realized that he was standing to the side, gazing silently down at her.  
  
  



	5. Sometimes Things Look Different in the M...

HATM5-FF  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Sometimes Things Look Different in the Morning  
  
  
She started and rose to a seated position, her hands flying out to grasp the sides of the tank. But instead of reaching out to push him away, which had been her first impulse, she found herself frozen in position, her eyes fascinated by the sight of his form in the bright sunlight. His brunette hair, which had been sedately combed last evening, was now a riotous mass of waves that swirled about his face and cascaded down his shoulders. His features were still handsomely ,chiseled but beneath the clear, cool blue of his eyes, there was a delicate shading of brown stubble upon his cheeks, chin and neck which had not been there the night before. Allowing her eyes to travel downward, the bright colors and the intricate designs of his myriad tattoos momentarily caught her gaze, but she found herself even more intrigued by the sight of his bare torso and upper arms.   
  
Although he was a thin man, his chest was sturdy and strong, a sinewy strength evident under the taut skin. It was quite a contrast to the spindly, ghostly pale chests of the mermen, she thought. And unlike the smooth, bronzed torsos of the Indian braves, a downy coating of dark, curly hair covered his chest. It was concentrated mostly upon his upper body, growing in a thick patch in the very middle before fanning out to the sides and swirling around his nipples before it thinned and disappeared. Right above his navel, the hair became more sparse, allowing a clearer view of the ridge of muscles upon his lower abdomen. But below this, another thin line of silky, sable-colored hair sprouted and she followed it downward with her eyes until it disappeared beneath the waistline of his britches. Hurriedly raising her eyes upward again, she turned her gaze to his left arm, noting that the thick, curly hair grew abundantly upon his forearm as well, even extending down onto the hand which was resting gently against the top of the tank's glass wall. She felt a curious desire to reach out with her own hand and stroke her fingers against the dark, wavy fuzz, to see for herself if it was as soft and velvety as it appeared. Feeling strangely confused and nervous, she forced herself to look away. Turning her head to the left, her mouth opened in surprise as she focused on the sight of his abruptly amputated arm.   
  
She curiously eyed the stump, noting the mixture of pink and white upon the healed scar and the ridges and bumps above it. The skin was stretched especially tight over two knobs which were obviously the ends of the bones where his wrist had been so violently severed from the rest of his body.   
  
For a moment, she thought back to all the times Peter Pan had boasted to the mermaids that he was the one responsible for Hook losing his hand. hand in a duel. She had always thought that he was vain, foolish braggart, but now there was a part of her that began to actively hate the boy. Not that she had any illusions about Hook hesitating to kill Pan if given even the slightest chance. But to wound, to scar or even to kill an opponent during a fight was one thing. It was something entirely else to hack off part of another person's body-whether it had been intentional or accidental-and to to be proud of the fact that you had done so.  
  
At the same time, a sudden blush of shame came to her own cheeks as she realized that she had been most rudely staring at his arm for quite some time. Taking in a deep breath, she cautiously raised her eyes to Hook's face, fully expecting that he would be glaring back down at her in a furious rage. Instead, she was stunned to see that his eyes were closed, his mouth set in a strange grimace as he sucked in air through his clenched teeth. He took a step backward from the tank and lifted his left hand to his stump, beginning to vigorously scratch the scarred area. He murmured a small cry of frustration, and increased the speed and intensity of the scraping, apparently finding little respite from his torment.  
  
A few moments ago, she had barely been able to resist the temptation to run her fingers over his hair-covered body. Now she felt her fingers twitching spasmodically against the glass walls as she fought back the desire to reach out and draw her own sharp fingernails against his flesh in an attempt to relieve his obvious agony. Finally, she was unable to control the impulse and stretched out her hand, intending to offer her help.  
  
But even as her arm rose into the air, Hook suddenly cursed under his breath and dropped his hand away from the stump. Pivoting away from her and walking swiftly towards the desk, he picked up the rum and took a large swallow, his fingers clenched tightly around the neck of the bottle as if commanding them to remain there instead of returning to the truncated limb. After more than a minute of absolute silence, she saw that his fingers were very slowly relaxing and releasing their grip, and heard him breathe out a deep, relieved sigh. Still turned away from her, he pulled himself to his full height and determinedly straightened his shoulders. Turning to his right, he marched over to his abandoned hook and its attached harness and picked it up from the floor. He worked it over his right forearm easily, but it took him several tries to throw one end of the strap over his shoulder and catch it with his one hand, and she saw a few beads of sweat form on his brow as he concentrated on pulling it through the buckle and securing it tightly. Only then did he raise his eyes to meet hers, and she was surprised to see that his expression was once more proud and haughty.  
  
"So..." he said, slowly advancing upon her once more.  
  
She dropped her eyes and gripped the sides of the tank, feeling her heart begin to beat wildly within her chest as she fought off the absurd notion to suddenly dive back into the water and submerge herself. As if that would somehow protect her, she chided herself. It would be as stupid and ineffective as when the Neverland ostriches thought to hide themselves from their pursuers by plunging their heads into the sand.   
  
But Hook walked past the tank, striding to the table that sat next to the bed, and opening a large leather box that sat upon it. He deftly unscrewed the hook from the cuff and placed it back within the box and then reached out and removed his usual large claw from its frame within the case. Placing it into position, he walked over to where his shirt was still hanging from the bedpost. Purposefully holding the large silver hook so that the sunlight was glinting upon it, he began to carefully polish the surface by blowing his warm breath upon it, and then wiping off the moisture with the soft, white linen.  
  
"Still pouting are we?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he sauntered back towards the desk, leaning over to pick up an apple in his left hand.  
  
"Do you really expect me to be happy, being kept here in a cage?" she asked quietly, finding herself slightly annoyed that, despite her best efforts, there was a tiny quaver in her voice.  
  
Hook laughed quietly and shrugged his shoulders. "I should think," he said, turning back to regard her with an expression of wide-eyed innocence, "That after seeing the look upon the faces of my men last night that you would be _very grateful_ that there is a large padlock and strong walls protecting you from them."  
  
Fee dropped her eyes again and searched for something to say, other than the obvious protest that he was the only man on board the ship whom she truly had to fear at the moment. But she lifted her head as a sudden, strangely squelchy sound reverberated through the room.   
  
With a satisfied smile upon his face, Hook lifted his right arm to show that the large, succulent apple was now skewered upon his claw. He lifted the luscious, ripe fruit to his mouth, and there was a loud, tantalizing crunch as he bit into the firm flesh.   
  
In response, Fee's stomach gave a noisy, complaining growl. If she had slept little the day before, she had eaten even less, and she could not deny that her stomach felt distressingly empty.  
  
Hook chewed the fruit carefully, murmuring his approval of the flavor before finally swallowing it. "My dear Fiona, you will recall that I did offer to share my supper with you last night," he said, his smile widening even more as he watched her eyes ravenously follow a dab of juice dripping down from the corner of his mouth. "But you were...distressingly truculent," he clucked, slowly beginning to move toward her. "Are you feeling a bit more compliant this morning?"  
  
He watched as she tried very hard not to tremble, knowing she was fighting the impulse to shrink away from him. He stopped about a foot away from the tank, holding the skewered apple against his chest.  
  
"What do I have to do?" she asked, so softly that he could hardly hear her.  
  
"All you have to do," he answered, his voice calm and soothing, "Is eat this apple."  
  
For a moment she continued to stare at him, clearly skeptical that he would really allow her to eat without demanding some kind of submission to his will. Then her stomach gave out another voracious rumble, and she took a deep swallow and cautiously held out her right hand.  
  
"No-" he sneered, holding the apple out to the side and away from her grasp. "I'm afraid I must insist that you eat it, as I did, from my hook."  
  
She blinked at him in surprise. "You're not serious!" she gasped, finally.  
  
"Oh, very serious, my dear," he replied, idly waving the apple beneath his nose and sniffing appreciatively. There was another crunch as he took another large bite of the fruit. "You complained last night that I was using the wrong bait upon it," he said, his mouth still full. He paused to swallow and then a broad smirk appeared on his face. "Indeed, perhaps for an innocent little soul as yourself, a simple fruit is a much more or a temptation than a frivolous jewel," he said, bending down and holding the apple in front of her face.  
  
She was balanced on the end of her tail, both hands tightly gripping the glass wall as her eyes darted back and forth from his face to the apple.   
  
"And such a _delicious _apple it is. It would be such a shame to throw it away," he sighed, shaking his head sadly. "But since you are obviously not very hungry, I might as well send all of this lovely fruit to your friends in the lagoon. And perhaps in a day or two, you will be a bit more sociable."  
  
Just as he began to draw away from her, she wet her lips and spoke.  
  
"Do you promise not to hurt me?" she asked.  
  
"Really, Fiona," he tsked, waving his still-bandaged finger in front of her eyes. "_You _are the one who injured _me_ last night. But I am willing to forgive and forget," he assured her, bringing the apple closer to her mouth. "As long as you do not bite or scratch me while you eat, you will remain safe from my hook," he promised.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "Do you promise not to touch me?" she challenged.  
  
He studied her for a moment, a curious expression crossing his face before it was replaced with an indulgent smile. "I promise not to touch you while you are eating," he answered smoothly.  
  
She chewed thoughtfully upon her lip as her stomach growled noisily once more. He answer obviously meant that he at some point he would no longer feel constrained to honor her request, but it seemed the best bargain she could manage at the moment. She leaned over the glass wall and slowly bent her head toward the apple. Hook took a step nearer to the tank, but at the same time drew his left arm behind his back as if to assure her he would keep his promise. Fee hesitated for a moment and then, just as Hook had done, breathed in deeply through her nose. He saw a slight flush of color upon her cheeks, and then she closed her eyes and took a small bite of the apple.  
  
"Umm," she murmured, obviously pleased with the flavor. Her mouth opened wider as she returned for another bite.  
  
She kept her eyes closed as he slowly rotated his arm, allowing her easy access to the firm yellow flesh while keeping the sharpened tip away from her face and carefully making sure that she did not bite down upon the hook. He, on the other hand, kept his eyes wide open, staring down at her and relishing the chance to study her at such close range.  
  
He had awakened that morning with a splitting headache and a sour stomach. It had taken him a moment to recall just why he had been enraged enough to drink himself into a stupor the night before. But as the early morning sun glinted off of the tank, he had found his memory immediately refreshed. Throwing off the bedcovers, he had hauled himself out of bed, quite prepared to force himself upon his recalcitrant guest. And since his head was not the only part of his anatomy that had awakened feeling quite thick and pounding this morning, he had no doubt that he would accomplish his objective in short order.  
  
There had been a sly smile upon his face as he carefully fit the key into the lock and slowly lifted up the lid. He intended to catch her by surprise, and had been quite looking forward the shocked expression on her face as he raised her from the tank and threw her onto the bed. Instead, though, he had found himself taken aback by how young and fragile she had looked, sleeping there huddled against the corner of the tank, her arms wrapped protectively around her. Even as a part of his mind urged him that she was an arrogant little chit who needed to be taught a lesson, he had found himself hesitating.  
  
Then she had opened her eyes and he had forced a neutral expression onto his face, his mind and body still warring over whether or not he should simply force himself upon her.  
  
Though she had been obviously shocked to see him standing beside her, it had taken only a few moments before the fear in her eyes had been surprisingly replaced by a spark of keen interest. As she sat up and silently scrutinized him, it had suddenly occurred to Hook that to her eyes his body was just as foreign and exotic as her form was to his.   
  
Never one to be overly modest, he had stood straight and tall, his stomach muscles clenched tightly as her eyes slowly ran down the length of his body. She had seemed fairly fascinated by his torso, and though he couldn't be quite sure, he thought she just might have caught a glimpse of the bulge in his trousers before she hastily raised her eyes back up above his waist.   
  
It was only then that he suddenly realized that, in his haste, he had neglected to don his hook and harness. As her gaze fell upon his amputation his heart had given a most curious flutter. Smee was the only one whom he had ever willingly allowed to gaze upon that abominable sight. He expected her to cry out in horror and throw her hands over her eyes. Instead, he was astounded to see her regard his mutilated flesh with a frank curiosity that seemed to be immediately replaced by a solemn sadness.   
  
And then the damned thing had begun to itch, and he had hastily retreated, his mortification effectively eradicating any trace of his previous arousal. By the time he had recaptured his composure, his desire for retaliation had returned as well. He had offered her the apple with the full expectation that she would summarily refuse his degrading bargain. He had been surprised by her easy capitulation and then irked that she had the temerity to request that he not touch her.  
  
In the end though, he had decided to indulge her, telling himself that he was merely doing so in order to lure her into letting down her guard. But now he was strangely content to merely watch her as she devoured the succulent fruit, watching the dainty way she nibbled at the apple with those strong white teeth that were only marginally longer and sharper than his own. Certainly there was nothing extraordinarily alien about her face, and he was even now beginning to wonder just what it would feel like to have that pink little tongue of hers slide along his own flesh, or to feel her plump, rosy lips slide over his mouth-or other parts of his body, for that matter.  
  
Still, he managed to keep his voice steady and slightly disdainful as he abruptly drew his hand away.  
  
"There is no need to eat the core," he chided. "Unless you mermaids consider it a special treat?" he asked.  
  
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Fee shook her head and drew away from him.   
  
"You may have another," he said, frowning down at his hook as he pried off the remains of the apple.  
  
"Thank you," she said, quite softly and sweetly.  
  
Hook frowned down at her, suspicious that she was being facetious. But she appeared to be quite sincere.  
  
"But not quite yet," he warned her as he expertly pitched the core into the trash bin.  
  
"What do I have to do now?" she asked.  
  
Unlike their previous conversation, where she had defiantly met his gaze, she was keeping her eyes focused upon the floor.  
  
"Something rather distasteful, but necessary," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "You will notice," he said, pointing toward one corner of the tank, "The hoses that are attached here?"  
  
Her eyes moved in the direction of his finger and she nodded her head.  
  
"They are the means by which the sea water can be drained and replenished," he explained.  
  
"I see," she said, slowly. For a moment, she submerged her head beneath the water and perused the apparatus with some interest. "It's very ingenious," she said, after she had resurfaced.  
  
"Thank you," he said, throwing her a short, ironic bow. Actually, the whole contraption had actually been Gallagher's idea, but Hook saw no need to inform her of that at the moment. Hook reached out and turned the knob on one of the hoses, and the water began to quickly drain out of the tank. When there was only a few inches left, he turned the knob to the other side and spoke to Fee again. "But although your tank will be refilled every day, I do hope that you will take care not to sully it, my dear?"  
  
She tilted her head to the side and appeared to be quite puzzled.  
  
"I am inquiring, dear _pet_, as to whether or not your are housebroken," he elaborated, his own embarrassment over the subject causing him to act even more superciliously than usual.  
  
But his sarcasm was lost upon its intended target, for she merely looked more baffled than before.  
  
"You are able to use a chamber pot?" he inquired, beginning to sound quite exasperated.  
  
Judging from the blank expression upon her face, he gathered he might as well have been jabbering away in a Greek  
  
"Here!" he said, turning toward his bed, and reaching down to pick up the chamber potfrom the floor. Like most everything that Hook owned, it was rather ornate and grand, fashioned from a particularly fine grade of bone china and adorned with a hand-painted pastoral scene of a rather fanciful design. Striding back to the tank, he thrust it into her hands.  
  
To his consternation, she still looked mystified as to what she was supposed to do with it.  
  
"It is to _relieve_ yourself," he hissed.  
  
"Relieve myself of what?" she asked, honestly perplexed.  
  
"Of your...your...bodily fluids, you silly girl!"   
  
Dear God, was she being willfully obtuse just to spite him?   
  
They stood staring at each other for a moment, Fee still clutching the champer pot within her slightly trembling hands as she struggled to understand what he wanted.   
  
_Well, to hell with it_, he thought. Apparently she required a visual demonstration, and with all the liquids he had consumed the night before, his bladder was certainly more than full at the moment.   
  
He muttered an oath and dropped his hand to his britches and began unbuttoning the fly. A few seconds later, his trousers were down around his ankles and he reached out to grab the vessel back from her. With an air of studied indifference, he looped his hook through the arm of the pot and held it in place as he used his left hand to guide himself. The sound of the fluid splashing against the china sides seemed abnormally loud to his ears, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, never once glancing back up at Fee. Finishing as rapidly as he could, he placed the chamber pot on the floor, hoisted up his trousers and swiftly rebuttoned his fly. Picking up the jug, he stomped over to the window and threw the contents over the side and then turned back to pick up a pitcher of water from a nearby shelf. Sloshing a generous amount into the vessel, he swirled it around the pot and then heaved the swill through the portal as well before stalking back toward the tank.  
  
"I trust," he said huffily, "That you now understand what is required of you?"  
  
Fee's cheeks were flushed, but not quite as red as he had anticipated they would be. Without a word, she accepted the pot from his hands, turned away and balanced upon her tail in a position that was rather like kneeling-although, of course, mermaids have no knees.   
  
With a loud harrumph, Hook stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Although he could not see exactly what she was doing, he could tell that she was holding the pot in front of her and from the sounds he heard he could assure himself that somehow, in someway, mermaids did indeed 'pass water' as humans did. After the sound had stopped, she paused for several seconds before turning back to him, but as she did so he could tell that the double row of fins which graced the front of her lower abdomen were still slowly folding against each other.   
  
_Well, that seemed to solve one mystery._   
  
Apparently, mermaids' privates were modestly hidden underneath a curtain of intricately connected fins. He pondered for a moment whether that reminded him more of the heavily-veiled women of the East or the lock-kneed virgins of London, before realizing that she was patiently holding the pot out to him. Taking it from her hands, he repeated the dumping and cleaning procedure, stopping to place the pot beside the bed again before turning back to regard her.  
  
Clearing his throat, he mumbled: "Of course, the pot is also used for other...necessities."  
  
"Yes, I understand," she replied, moving to seat herself in the water again. "You needn't perform another demonstration," she added.  
  
Hook shot her a quick glance. Although her eyelids were demurely lowered again, he wondered if he didn't see just the hint of a grin around the corners of her mouth.   
  
_Damn it_, he thought to himself, as he reached over and wrenched open the knob on the other hose that admitted a heavy stream of water into the tank. So far, after managing to capture her, nothing had gone quite as he had planned. He was not quite sure if he was more upset by her stubborn behavior the night before or her surprising capitulation this morning, but either way, he felt distressingly ooff kilter today. Not that his hangover was helping either his composure or equilibrium.  
  
It came as a relief to hear a low knock upon the door and Smee's voice timidly whispering, "Captain?"  
  
"Yes?" he snarled, shutting off the water. "What is it, Smee?" he asked, as he unlocked the door and shoved it open.  
  
"Oh, Captain, you're up!" chirped Smee, merrily.  
  
"Obviously," was the grouchy retort.  
  
"Well, I thought that you might have slept a bit later this morning," Smee explained amiably, entering the cabin with a large tray laden with serving dishes and plates.  
  
Hook made no reply, but instead concentrated on selecting a new shirt from the assortment that hung on pegs on the wall. The inference was that clearly Smee and the other pirates believed that he had spent the night in wild debauchery with his new concubine, and Hook was in no hurry to disillusion them of that misconception.  
  
Smee busied himself removing the plates from the night before and placing the new ones on the desk. When he came to the broken shell glass and plate of apple slices, discolored and untouched, with some spilled over onto the desk, a puzzled frown knit his brow for a moment. But, shrugging his shoulders, he cleaned them all up and then turned to face Fee.  
  
"I see you're looking well this morning, Miss?"  
  
Hook paused in the buttoning of his shirt (not the easiest thing to do when using one hand and one hook, I might add), and glanced at her also. Rather to his surprise, she did indeed look quite well. The forlorn, pale wretch that had been curled up in sleep when he first beheld this morning had somehow been replaced by a quietly confident creature of uncommon beauty. Even her skin had seemed to have taken on a rosy glow.  
  
"I'm afraid, I didn't catch your name though," added Smee, apologetically.  
  
"Her name is Fiona," Hook said loudly, tucking in the ends of his shirt.  
  
"No, my name is Fee," she corrected, quietly.  
  
With a low growl, Hook turned to her with a scowl upon his face. However she might act towards him when they were alone, he had absolutely no intention of allowing her to defy him in front of any member of his crew-not even Smee.   
  
But before he could rebuke her, she calmly continued: "Fiona is the special name the Captain has given me, and only he can use it."  
  
"Oh," said Smee, glancing nervously between the mermaid and his superior. There was obviously something rather strange going on between the two and, contrary to popular opinion, Smee was not really simple-minded. He was merely exceedingly cautious and had discovered a long time ago that it was often best to appear to be oblivious to his captain's caustic manner and wild mood swings. "I'll just continue to call you Miss, then," he offered, not wanting to insult either one of them.  
  
Clearing his throat, he smiled vaguely around the room before continuing. "Is there some other food you would be wanting?" he asked.  
  
"Could you bring me some seaweed?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Oh," he said, somewhat surprised. "I suppose I could get some."  
  
"Of course you may have some seaweed, my dear," interrupted Hook, drawing near the tank once more. "I'll be very happy to send out some men to collect some today and you may feast to your heart's delight upon it."  
  
He paused and drew his eyes upward, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. Turning away, he strode towards the desk and sat down upon his chair. "_Provided_, of course, that you have behaved yourself in the meantime," he finished smoothly as he began to help himself to the breakfast items that the first mate had brought.   
  
"Is there anything else?" began Smee, cautiously directing his question to the air without glancing in either Fee or Hook's direction.  
  
"No, you may leave, Smee," muttered the Captain, placing his napkin upon his lap. "But I'll expect you back within the half hour to remove the dishes."  
  
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Smee, smiling broadly and seeming very relieved to make a quick departure from the room.  
  
After the door closed behind him, Hook concentrated on pouring out a small amount of milk into his teacup, followed by a large measure of tea. Stirring in a spoonful of honey, he raised the cup to his lips. As he sipped, he looked across the room and was rather surprised to see that Fee was sitting quietly by the side of the tank, her elbows propped up against the top of the glass walls.  
  
"You said I could have another apple after I used the chamber pot," she reminded him quietly.  
  
"So, I did," he said, carefully placing the teacup back down upon its saucer. Removing the cover from his tray, he paused to stir a generous helping of sugar and milk into one of the bowls. Pushing his chair back, he rose to his feet, carrying the bowl in his hand and his napkin on his hook. "Although I do think it is best that you try to acclimate yourself to other foods as well," he said, drawing near the tank.  
  
He held the bowl in front of her face and after a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around the spoon. Obviously mermaids were not used to such utensils, for her grasp was more than a bit unsteady as she brought it towards her mouth.  
  
"Wait!" said Hook.   
  
Fee looked up at him, a puzzled expression upon her face.  
  
"It is a bit hot yet," he explained, bending down and pursing his lips to blow a cooling breathe across the steaming spoonful. By doing so, he placed his face within a few inches of her own, and was pleasantly surprised to see that she did not shy away. "Now you may try it," he said, drawing back to his full height.  
  
Fee's tongue flicked out of her mouth and she frowned slightly as it touched the off-white, lumpy blob. But she opened her mouth and took in the whole spoonful. After a few moments, however, her expression turned into a shocked grimace and with a laugh Hook reached out and placed the napkin in front of her mouth.  
  
"Well, spit it out if it's that disagreeable," he urged.  
  
Fee hastily complied.  
  
"That's disgusting," she muttered, cupping her hand and bringing a mouthful of the sea water to her lips in an apparent attempt to rinse her mouth out.  
  
"My Scottish ancestors would be quite enraged to hear you disparage their oatmeal," he said, turning around and striding back towards the desk. "But, I agree it is an acquired taste." Placing the used napkin to the side, he picked up a plate and arranged several items upon it, pausing at the last moment to spread some orange marmalade upon the toast. "Let us see if you find any of these more palatable," he said, approaching the tank again.  
  
He held out the plate and Fee cautiously reached out to grasp the spoon. She tried her best to scoop up some of the eggs, but their soft, spongy texture and her unfamiliarity with the utensil did not make the task easy. Hook clucked his tongue as a few fragments slid over the side of the plate onto the floor.   
  
"Very well, then," he said, shaking his head, "I suppose you must hold the plate while I feed you," he scolded.  
  
Fee held out her hands to take the plate and then opened her mouth obediently to take the small spoonful of food that the Captain was holding in front of her. She chewed the eggs very slowly but managed to swallow them down.  
  
"More?" he asked, holding out another spoonful.  
  
"No thank you," she said, screwing up her mouth slightly.  
  
"My, we are being hard to please this morning, aren't we?" he said, using the fork to spear a large sausage. To his surprise, Fee looked rather appalled and drew hastily away as he brought it up to her lips. Shrugging his shoulders, he chomped down upon it himself, noting that Fee was watching his every move with a great deal of fascination. A rather wicked gleam came to his eyes as he brought the banger to his mouth again, this time allowing his lips to slide appreciatively along the exterior of the large shaft before he took his bite. From the slight reddening of her cheeks, he had absolutely no doubt that she was quite aware of the sexual suggestiveness of the gesture. His delight in eliciting such a response in her was immediately tempered by the thought that it undoubtedly proved that she was hardly as innocent and inexperienced as she had looked in her slumber, and he found himself wondering yet again just exactly what mermen looked like and where they lived.  
  
Pushing that thought aside, he laid the fork down upon the plate and reached out to pick up a piece of the toast slathered with marmalade. After taking one cautious sniff, she opened her mouth to take a small nibble. Her lips immediately curled into a smile, and she gulped it down quickly and then eagerly opened her mouth for more.  
  
"Ah, it appears we have found at least one item that satisfies you," he said, taking back the plate from her hand as she reached out to accept the toast from him.   
  
He turned and made his way back towards the desk. Selecting another plate, he placed the rest of the toast upon it, spooning out more marmalade onto some of the slices and strawberry preserves upon the remainder. Seizing another apple from the bowl, he quickly sliced it into pieces and arranged them upon the plate as well. Fee had already finished the first piece by the time he returned to the tank. Carefully balancing the plate upon the corner of the tank, he handed her a fresh napkin and then went back to seat himself at the desk and partake of his own breakfast.   
  
Perhaps it was the relish with which she was attacking the food on her own plate, but Hook found himself suddenly ravenous, wolfing down the eggs, sausages and oatmeal and then helping himself to more.   
  
"What is it you are drinking?" she asked, as he was draining his cup.  
  
"It is tea, my dear, would you like to try some?" he said, rising to his feet and pouring out a fresh cup. He stirred in milk and honey, and then brought it over to her. She seemed to like the fragrance of the tea, but she seemed quite surprised by the taste when he brought the cup to her lips.  
  
"Why you drink it so warm?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she rubbed her fingers against her throat, almost as if it had been scalded by the rather tepid liquid..  
  
"It is meant to be drunk that way," he protested, at the same time thinking to himself that of course mermaids had no way of heating their own victuals.   
  
She demurred to try it again, but Hook returned to the desk and brought back a small glass of orange juice. This was much more to her liking, and she quaffed it down in a few short gulps. Handing the empty glass back to him, she continued to dine upon the apple slices and toast, eating slowly and chewing daintily while Hook contented himself with sipping at the tea.  
  
A few minutes later there was another knock upon the door, and Smee cautiously entered the room. The atmosphere seemed much more congenial now, and he even blushed as he collected the plate from Fee and she graciously thanked him for the food.  
It was not in Hook's nature to thank anyone, of course. He merely gazed out imperiously and impassively as the man scurried around the room. But when Smee asked if he could be of any further service, Hook's eyebrows rose into the air and he haughtily informed him that, of course, he would be wanting his morning shave as usual.  
  
For a moment Smee looked rather startled, for the Captain usually only shaved every second or third day. But he wisely refrained from uttering that observation aloud, and concentrated on gathering up the necessary supplies as Hook loosened his shirt collar and pushed his large, throne like chair away from the desk. Fee watched, seemingly mesmerized as Smee applied the thick, white lather to Hook's face and used a straight razor to shave the stubble from his cheeks and neck. The first mate finished his task quickly and finished by uncorking a bottle of some kind of perfumed liquid, which he poured into his palms and rubbed over the Captain's freshly-shaven skin. Standing up, Hook peered into a mirror and nodded his approval, pausing to run a brush hurriedly through his brown curls before bending down so that Smee could place the hat on top of his head.  
  
Holding out his arms behind him, he indicated that Smee should help him into his coat. Unlike his wardrobe of the previous evening-a white shirt and blue coat, he was attired today completely in black, the only exception being his brightly colored hat. The dark monotony of his attire was deliberately chosen, for it not only accentuated the height and thinness of his frame, but also served to underscore a general impression of menace which Hook found indispensable in keeping his crew suitably servile. Turning around to face Fee, he studied the expression on her face and found his heart sinking slightly as he saw that she seemed much less impressed with his appearance than he might have hoped. And then the thought struck him that she appeared to be much less afraid and infinitely more interested in him when he was partially _undressed_-a very intriguing hypothesis that, unfortunately, he had no time to test at the moment.   
  
"I am afraid, my dear," he said, doffing his hat and bowing down before her. "That I must leave you for a while. I am afraid that there are many duties which, as captain of this vessel, will keep me quite busy for the remainder of the day."  
  
Fee nodded and then took in a quick gasp of breath as she saw him replace the hat and then reach into his pockets and remove his keys.   
  
"Oh, please," she said, as he stepped nearer to the tank and grasped the heavy wooden lid. "You really don't need to lock me in this case."  
  
"Really," he said, lifting his eyebrows in disbelief.  
  
"There's no way I can escape from the ship," she pleaded. "And even if I did, the mermaids would return me to you."  
  
"That's quite possibly true," he said, tilting his head to the side. "But, unfortunately, they would also demand more ransom as well. And while it was rather entertaining to bargain with them last night, I do not intend to make it a habit. Besides," he said, impatiently waving his hand, "I've already mentioned that you must be kept safe from my men as well."  
  
"The locks on the door should be enough to keep them out," she begged. "And I would scream if any of them came near. Please don't shut me up in here?"  
  
Smee, who was watching and listening, found his mouth trembling a bit and had to blink back a tear at the frantic tone of her voice. Hook, however, was glaring at her with an implacable expression, holding the lid in his hook as he pointed downward towards the water with his left index finger.   
  
"We have had such a pleasant morning, Fiona," he muttered, "Please do not ruin it by making me use force."  
  
With a heavy sigh, Fee slowly lowered herself into the tank. The thud of the lid and the click of the lock seemed exceptionally loud in the suddenly still room. Smee stifled a sigh of his own as he turned around and busied himself clearing away the rest of the plates.   
  
Hook impatiently held the door open as Smee stumbled out, carrying the heavily-laden tray filled with dishes and food. He stole one more look back at the tank, and saw that the mermaid was upon her back, staring mournfully up at the lid. Even as he felt a small twinge of sympathy for the pretty creature's enforced confinement, a small voice within his head congratulated him on the of his cleverness of his strategy. Spending a few hours in that wretched tank with no companionship just might make her a little more receptive to his overtures this evening.  
  
"I'll expect you to keep an eye on the door," he snarled to Smee as he turned the key in the lock.  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain," he replied, struggling to keep upright under the weight of the tray. "And when shall I come get the key from you?"  
  
"The key?" he replied, blankly.  
  
"To give her some more food," replied Smee brightly. "I was thinking that I could set out this morning to find some of that seaweed for her."  
  
"Yes," replied Hook thoughtfully. "Gather some of that repulsive greenery, but do not give her anything to eat until tonight."  
  
"But, Captain!"  
  
"She can wait until this evening-when she will be dining with me."  
  
Turning away from Smee, he strode angrily down the deck. He had no doubt that the winsome little mermaid could easily wrap his guileless first mate around her finger if given half a chance, so it was best to keep them separated. And he had been far too indulgent in his treatment of her already. It was high time she realized that she was dependent upon his favor. If she wanted the luxury of plentiful food and more freedom, she had best be prepared to pay for it with a much more compliable attitude than she had heretofore displayed.  
  
Meanwhile, inside of the tank, Fee turned onto her side, taking her by now familiar position of gazing toward the back wall of the cabin. In a way, she was almost grateful to be left alone, for her body and mind were swirling with a strange mixture of thoughts and emotions. She had been scared to death to find Hook standing beside her this morning, but to her surprise, the sight of his naked torso had quickly aroused a surprisingly different set of emotions. Not only had she found herself finding off the urge to stroke her fingers against his hair-covered skin, but she had found herself unexpectedly drawn to him in other ways as well. For one thing, once she had risen out of the water she had suddenly found herself intriguingly aroused by his distinctive odor.  
  
No, not odor, she thought, correcting herself. That word had a rather negative connotation. It was more like a...scent. A scent that reminded her vaguely of the familiar smell of sea water-which was hardly surprising given the number of years his body and clothes had exposed to the ocean air. There was a whiff of spice and a trace of the cologne that Smee had applied to his face this morning as well. But above all that there had been something decidedly masculine that had attracted her to him in a most visceral and primal manner. Indeed, when she had closed her eyes and sniffed at the apple, she had really been trying to breathe in more of that strangely pleasing musk.  
  
As for the sight of the lower half of his body...  
  
She shivered slightly and allowed her fingers to brush lightly against the skin of her breasts. What he possessed down there, even in a flaccid state, certainly put the mermens' pale, puny bodies to shame. And, most intriguing of all, it appeared that humans had hair in this area also.  
  
She should hate him, she told herself. Her heart should be pounding with fury and she should be spending her time trying to think of a way to escape from his clutches. Undoubtedly, Smee seemed quite sympathetic to her plight and there were times that even Hook himself seemed to be having second thoughts about the way he had treated her. There was a slight chance that she could eventually convince her captor to allow her to leave. Or at least she might cause him to lower his guard. If she could get close to his keys, or get her hands on that deadly piece of sharpened steel that had been used to cut the hair from his face, she might be able to fight her way free.  
  
But instead, she found herself thinking again of how his body had looked when divested of his garments, about how surprisingly soft and warm his lips had seemed when he had bent down to blow across the spoon, and in the back of her mind she once more heard the sweet way he had sung to her that night in the lagoon.  
  
Closing her eyes, she tried to drive the memory away. Her damaged tail fin was throbbing slightly with pain now, and she purposefully brushed it against the side of the tank as if eager for the sting to drive other thoughts out of her mind. But the motion only seemed to intensify a strange ache in an altogether different part of her body. Her hands were moving across her body, pausing to graze gently against the soft skin of her stomach before moving downward. Opening her mouth and allowing a soft moan to escape from her lips, she slowly unfurled the interlocking set of fins. Turning on her back again, she arched her back and pretended that Hook was on top of her, his deep, beautiful voice singing sweetly in her ear as his hands roamed over her body.   
  
  
  



End file.
